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Good friend martin, when you think of me, |
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make sure i am a woman of ideals. |
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'cause martin, that's all i've got left in me. |
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can't pull no tricks out my sleeve. |
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Martin, our roads may not be the same, |
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we've each got our own style and way. |
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but martin, we each gonna taste that fame, |
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but i can just say my fame gonna taste a little sweeter. |
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'cause your head it is big and your feet they don't hit the ground. |
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and martin, i've learned one thing, |
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only good boys get to morningtown, |
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and i know you want to ride to morningtown. |
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So martin, i'm gonna keep playing my empty rooms, |
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someday i'll find my space. |
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and martin, i'm gonna keep my mouth free and clear, |
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ain't no dick gonna block what i say. |
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'cause my head it ain't big and my feet they gonna stay on the ground. |
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martin, i've learned one thing, |
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only good girls get to morningtown, |
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and i am gonna ride to morningtown. |
