
You go down to the pickup station,
	craving warmth and beauty;
You settle for less than fascination --
	a few drinks later you're not so choosy.
And the closing lights strip off the shadows
	on this strange new flesh you've found --
Clutching the night to you like a fig leaf
	you hurry to the blackness
	and the blankets to lay down an impression
	and your loneliness.
		-- Joni Mitchell
