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. Later 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 awaiting you. See cocktail cowboys, and movie stars in the nude. C mon, c'mon, c'mon - house or 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.