| She was seventeen going on fifty | |
| I'm not quite sure exactly what that means | |
| But her speakers screamed Sinatra and the Zombies | |
| Her hair hung red around her ripped blue jeans | |
| She said she was Jim Morrison incarnate | |
| A psychic on La Brea told her so | |
| She asked me if I ever read Lolita | |
| She took my hand and lead me to her door | |
| And she said.... | |
| Let's go to my room | |
| I'll show you my posters | |
| Let's go to my room | |
| I'll show you I'm al lover | |
| She locked the door behind me she lit a candle | |
| Then blew it out said the moon would do just fine | |
| The lizard king and T. Rex for wall paper | |
| Above her bed hung a No-Parking sign | |
| She asked me if I liked her decorator | |
| As she stripped behind a wall of raining beads | |
| I woke up with her pillow and her diary | |
| She took her bath as I began to read | |
| And she said... | |
| Let's go to my room | |
| I'll show you my posters | |
| Let's go to my room | |
| I'll show you I'm a lover |
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