 It's going to be good, babe. Sitting at the edge of the bed, licking my eyebrows, telling you it's going to be good, right? The party's over. I want the news. They say that all good things must end. Turn out the light. Call it a night. Hold on a second, Willie. It's not your turn yet, Willie Nelson. Willie Nelson, the red-headed stranger. I'd have to be crazy. Plum out of my mind.