Well an old saying goes mind your manners mind your mother And a man can find a
lover who is tan and undercover Well she might lies about her age, but lady I
got no complaints
She can be as crazy and as foolish as she wants to be Because her old school
ways are practically technicalities and perfectly sane I'm saying I ain't never
seen a saint.
Well I met her at an old cop bar down in silverlake Where we spoke about the
give and we joked about the take And when they asked for identification I knew
hers probably was a fake
She's just another older lover undercover.
You're wearing that thin disguise. Don't apologize. And you're birthday suit
suits you. Well it suits me too it's one hell of a costume I can't find the
zipper anywhere on your back Perhaps it's attached to the breach of your
ass-crack
(Burr it's cold in here. You keep it hot dear.)
with a sip of mexican coffee and some grapefruit juice a glass of coke a glass
of wine just to keep it loose oh the things that you say and do, wow. And the
way that you move to the music Like the who and the velvet underground old
sounds You like indie rock, spock rock, anything you've found In the backseat of
your downtown brown and bruised beat up bmw
Any melodramatic role is just a garment of the soul I respect your nakedness
and the way that you unfold and the way your wiser stories are always told
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