I'm getting old, don't wear underwear, and I don't go to church.
Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred years to late. Cannons don't thunder, there's nothing to plunder, I'm an over forty victim of fate.
There's a little bit of fruitcake left in everyone of us.
Pack your bags, we're going on a guilt trip!
Back to my childhood where those monsters reside. They snack on innocence and dine on self esteem.
Why don't we get drunk and screw?