|
She fills the rich kitsch niche where she sits |
|
Making chit-chat, this and that, from the bits |
|
Consumed, perfumed, detracts the room despite |
|
Glowing, knowing she can head for the limelight |
|
She's too rich for her men |
|
She won't stay, what a shame, a shame |
|
She won't fit in his world |
|
She exists for the game, a shame |
|
Tricky repertoire |
|
Words flying 'round |
|
Picky seminar |
|
Bound to be drowned in the sound |
|
Sticky shirt and tie |
|
Play bottoms up in the bar |
|
Icky, fly guy why |
|
She's nastier by far |
|
It's appeasing how she wanna flaunt her fur |
|
His mind's but a blur, oh dear |
|
He's derailing from his train of thought |
|
Doing not what he ought and was taught |
|
He's trying to flick quick, but she waged the pages stick |
|
Someone must have gone click, click, click, click |
|
Can't see what's new, he doesn't have a clue |
|
Of what to do with the woman he thought that he knew |
|
She's too rich for her men |
|
She won't stay, what a shame, a shame |
|
She won't fit in his world |
|
She exists for the game, a shame |
|
Tricky repertoire |
|
Words flying 'round |
|
Picky seminar |
|
Sticky shirt and tie |
|
Play bottoms up in the bar |
|
Icky, fly guy why |
|
She's too rich for her men |
|
She won't stay, what a shame, a shame |
|
She won't fit in his world |
|
She exists for the game, a shame |
|
She's too rich for her men |
|
She won't stay, what a shame, a shame |
|
She won't fit in his world |
|
She exists for the game, a shame |
