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There's a place in the town, a statue, |
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She'd make me wait beneath, |
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But its magnif icent archways, archways, |
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That's where I'd go to weep. |
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I'm right up onto the counter; |
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Showgirl, perfect the slow body-roll. |
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And breakaway from the anger, oh, hoe, |
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Just got to let it all go, |
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But she loves me |
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More than anyone who wouldn't lay a hand. |
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She keeps mace spray, |
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For you can't rely on the common man. |
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That night up under the starlight, |
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Holly, you call, 'the great blistering blue, |
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A strange formation came down from the ceiling, |
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And it began to move. |
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And so the shattering shards of glass fell, |
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And glistened this way and that, |
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But she would say I won't find my way through the plaster |
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I'm an empty hourglass in the sand, |
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But she loves me, |
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More than anyone who wouldn't speak like that. |
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She keeps mace spray, |
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For you can't rely on the common man. |
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But it is alright, |
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Here in the time and the place I am, |
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You leave a light on all night, |
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Just to remind of the place I am. |
