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
