Playboy After Dark

Now's the time, come of age, for the
Liberation
Namath fumbles, Jesus saves, playmate
Congregation
Sipping from the loving cup, see his Fall
Collection.
Leter one may tie you up, at your own
Discretion.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon - the crowd has begun to swell.
There's catfights, dim lights here
From the covers of Vogue and Elle.
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, turn on your pleasure
Parts.
Welcome swingers, to Playboy after dark.

Swapping wives, sharing lives. Have a dose
Of retro.
Art brigade, Peter Max, Hugo Montenegro.
They're dancing in the rumpus room. (And
Hef, he's such a gas.)
In his smoking jacket, pipe and highball glass.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon - a scene is awating
You.
See cocktail cownboys, and move stars in
The nude.
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon - house of the rising
Sun.
It's all here lover, at Playboy after dark.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, won't you turn on,
Turn on, turn on?
Debutantes and astronauts, bachelors,
Rogues and cads.
Everyone scream aloud love in quotation
Marks.
Even Z-man would be proud, of the Playboy after dark.
The Playboy after dark.