![]() |
||||||||||||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
||||||||||||||||||
![]() |
||||||||||||||||||||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
|||||||||||||
![]() |
#21
|
||||
|
||||
![]() damn...talk about a blast from the past. 1977.....hmmm..I was 19. sniff...sniff........only 19.... *puts on hat....does best Frank Sinatra impression* When I was seventeen It was a very good year It was a very good year for small town girls And soft summer nights We’d hide from the lights On the village green When I was seventeen When I was twenty-one It was a very good year It was a very good year for city girls Who lived up the stair With all that perfumed hair And it came undone When I was twenty-one When I was thirty-five It was a very good year It was a very good year for blue-blooded girls Of independent means We’d ride in limousines Their chauffeurs would drive When I was thirty-five But now the days grow short I’m in the autumn of the year And now I think of my life as vintage wine >from fine old kegs >from the brim to the dregs And it poured sweet and clear It was a very good year It was a mess of good years |
#22
|
||||
|
||||
You got me beat by one year, newb. I was 18.
|
#23
|
||||
|
||||
Quote:
I haven't tumbled down the stairs yet.:D |
#24
|
||||
|
||||
Hhhhheeeeeyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's see how you do when you tumble down the stairs!! LMAO
|
![]() |
|
|