Ian Anderson
Undressed to Kill
Working on the late shift --- first drink of the day
Pull a chair up to the table, have to look the other way
What kind of place am I in? And who's this over here?
Shaking through the silver bubbles climbing through my beer
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still
Could you meet the eyes of a working girl
Undressed to kill?
Staring through the smoke haze --- plaid shirts in the night
Well, I'm making sure that everything is zipped up tight
Who's that jumping on the table? Putting tonic in my gin?
Brushing silken dollars on her cold white skin
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still
Could you meet the eyes of a working girl
Undressed to kill?
She could have been sweet seventeen. There again, well, so could I
There was a tear drop sparkle on the inside of her thigh
Going to fetch myself a cold beer. I've got to get a grip
Find some place to touch down. Find a landing strip
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still
Can you meet the eyes of a working girl
All undressed to kill?
Last one out is a cold duck. Padding down the road
I wait outside, my motor running --- got a warm dream to unload
Can I face her in the sunshine? In he harsh real light of day?
She walks out with recognition in her eyes --- I look away
Won't let it move me, but I can't sit still
Couldn't meet the eyes of a working girl
Undressed to kill