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On nights like this |
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When the world's a bit amiss |
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And the lights go down |
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Across the trailer park |
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I get down, I feel had |
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Feel on the verge of going mad |
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And then it's time to punch the clock |
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I put on some make-up |
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Turn on the tape deck |
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And put the wig back on my head |
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Suddenly I'm Miss Midwest Midnight Checkout Queen |
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Until I head home |
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And I put myself to bed |
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I look back on where I'm from |
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Look at the woman I've become |
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And the strangest things seem suddenly routine |
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I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks |
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The gift wrapped wig's still in the box |
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Of towering velveteen |
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I put on some make-up |
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Some LaVern Baker |
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And pull the wig down from the shelf |
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Suddenly I'm Miss Beehive 1963 |
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Until I wake up |
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And I turn back to myself |
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Some girls, they got natural ease |
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They wear it any way they please |
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With their French flip curls |
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From perfumed magazines |
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Wear it up, let it down |
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This is the best way that I've found |
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To be the best you've ever seen |
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I put on some make-up |
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Turn on the eight-track |
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I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf |
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Suddenly I'm Miss Farrah Fawcett |
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From TV |
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Until I wake up |
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And I turn back to myself |
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Shag, bi-level, bob |
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Dorothy Hamill do, |
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Sausage curl, chicken wings |
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It's all because of you |
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With your blow dried, feather backed |
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Toni home wave, too |
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Flip, fro , frizz, flop |
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It's all because of you |
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It's all because of you |
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It's all because of you |
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(okay...everybody...) |
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I put on some make-up |
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Turn on the eight track |
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I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf |
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Suddenly I'm this Punk Rock Star |
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Of stage and screen |
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And I ain't ever |
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I'm never turning back |
