Pretty girl, wrecking' bar
Ra ra ra ra, yeah you are
Growing up, I'm twice the man
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah, I am

The angel's game, F. Scott Fitzgerald
The evening news and the Morning Herald
I know they're not from very far
Les femmes, les bars; c'est pas une joire

Where you been? You can't say?
Hey hey hey hey, yeah you may
That might seem a bit below
No no no, it's funny though

Let's go home, I think we oughtta
I know you're your mother's daughter
Well brought up and royal blue
But I haven't got the time for you

Finger pointing, pre-supposing
Watch out man the doors are closing
This is what you get when you turn your back
A clear blue sky turning dirty black