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hey Charley I'm pregnant |
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and living on 9-th street |
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right above a dirty bookstore |
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off cuclid avenue |
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and I stopped taking dope |
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and I quit drinking whiskey |
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and my old man plays the trombone |
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and works out at the track. |
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and he says that he loves me |
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even though its not his baby |
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and he says that he'll raise him up |
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like he would his own son |
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and he gave me a ring |
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that was worn by his mother |
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and he takes me out dancin |
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every saturday nite. |
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and hey Charley I think about you |
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everytime I pass a fillin' station |
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on account of all the grease |
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you used to wear in your hair |
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and I still have that record |
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of little anthony & the imperials |
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but someone stole my record player |
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how do you like that? |
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hey Charley I almost went crazy |
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after mario got busted |
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so I went back to omaha to |
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live with my folks |
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but everyone I used to know |
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was either dead or in prison |
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so I came back in minneapolis |
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this time I think I'm gonna stay. |
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hey Charley I think I'm happy |
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for the first time since my accident |
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and I wish I had all the money |
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that we used to spend on dope |
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I'd buy me a used car lot |
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and I wouldn't sell any of em |
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I'd just drive a different car |
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every day dependin on how |
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I feel. |
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hey Charley |
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for chrissakes |
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do you want to know |
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the truth of it? |
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I don't have a husband |
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he don't play the trombone |
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and I need to borrow money |
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to pay this lawyer |
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and Charley, hey |
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I'll be eligible for parole |
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come valentines day. |
