Esme Lynbrook Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Los Angeles

So I’m spinnin’ this track, right, and it’s all fuzzy guitars and thumpin’ drums, like a night out gone wrong – or bloody right, dependin’ on yer taste! *mumbled incoherence* “Sharon, where’s me whiskey?!” It’s got this gritty story in it, y’see – bloke’s on the prowl, cash in hand, searchin’ fer a prossie. Little known fact, yeah? Back in the ‘70s, they used to call ‘em “ladies of the night” in them posh papers, but the streets knew the real score – always a hustle, always a tale. Makes me laugh, thinkin’ how some punter’s prob’ly wrote this after gettin’ ripped off – “Sharon, she took me last quid!”

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Ya can’t forget the Lynbrook LIRR station itself – a lifeline for work and date meetups – all quirky miscommunications and last-minute rushes. When marauding through yerself, I sometimes think “Just like in Ten, everything's fragile but beautiful,” even when traffic jams on Atlantic Ave make me wanna scream out loud – “Say hello to my little frieeend!”

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