I knew you’d slow me down with your pinky in the air,
but I knew you’re the one when you dipped down with your sable black hair.
I swear I hate this town and that’s how the story goes,
we got fifteen minutes before this goddamn place throws up and blows.
Moonshine, shoeshine, thirty-five dollars for a thong,
drinks on credit and I’m in the gutter singing this song.
It’s past midnight blues and you’re wearing shadow and lace,
but how can I say I love you when you’re sitting on my face? (more…)