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Somebody somewhere must pay |
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Not you, you just walk away |
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To the foot of her stairs |
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She at the top with her head in the clouds |
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Was she easily led? |
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Well, can you tell me that you were not |
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You, unwashed and undressed |
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She with her head full of your cigarettes |
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She is oh such a pretty one |
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Wrapped up in needlecord and coincidence |
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And you don't know what to want |
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'Til it's gone, gone, gone |
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Pretty gone |
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Somebody somewhere must pay |
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Somebody else will confess all your sins |
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You'll be saved then you'll step on that face |
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She will laugh, she will kiss she and tell |
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She is gone, she is pretty gone |
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She's under your thumb |
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Oh you little man |
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And you don't know what you want |
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'Til she's gone, gone, gone |
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Pretty dress |
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Full of nothingness |
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To confess, she is nothing less |
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She was half way to holiness |
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When you said |
|
Won't you put on your dress |
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And come down to Magazine Avenue |
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Won't you put on your dress and come down? |
