Poor Richard Sherman's got himself in such a state, he's been mesmerised and is starting to fixate, a screen goddess lives upstairs, summertime is for affairs, now he's drinking, smoking, getting quite irate; as his wife has left the city for the country, and middle age makes him behave, quite dumbly, it's the itch of seven years, that's interfering with his gears, but just a scratch will turn his world, fragile and crumbly.
Fair play to him though, as I suspect most men in his position wouldn't behave the same way when presented with a new neighbour who's innocent exhibition and confiding character (along with a number of other engaging attributes) are so overwhelmingly enticing, especially to the archetypal 1950s middle aged man.
Fair play to him though, as I suspect most men in his position wouldn't behave the same way when presented with a new neighbour who's innocent exhibition and confiding character (along with a number of other engaging attributes) are so overwhelmingly enticing, especially to the archetypal 1950s middle aged man.