Mmmm...
Good evening

Well this house looks like a bordello
And your mind it looks like a garage
And your garter looks like nothing
And you blew it, blew it large, yeah

Don't give me no trouble
Don't give me no strife
I'm tired of these shadows keep following me
All my -kin' life

And your mind looks like a bordello
And your treehouse looks like a suite
I'm looking up to the silver stars
And I'm looking down at your feet

Don't tell me no lies, baby
I know just where you've been
Walking around St. Petersburg singing a hymn
Walking around St. Petersburg singing a hymn, likе this

Please God help mе out of this mess
Please God help me out of this mess
Fifteen long days and I need to confess
Mind looks like a bordello
This bordello looks like a shop
I'm skipping all over the silver streets
And when I run I stop
Do you hear me now?
Ahh, yeah

One for the crooked grocer
Two for his stupid wife
Three for the dog that bit me
Five, yeah

Ah, don't give me no trouble
Don't give me no lip
I'm gonna get a replacement
Because I'm so hip

Now listen...
Your mind looks like a bordello
Mmmm, yeah
Now you remember that time
We were walking down Cleveland Street, yeah
Huh!
Mmmm, I saw the way you're looking at the men passing by
'Cause your mind is a bordello, baby
And I'm a nasty fellow, baby
And I was all turning yellow, baby
I said 'Hello baby!'
Ahh, don't give me no trouble
Please don't give me no lip
I know you've got a martini
I just want a little sip
Before I jump off of this ship, huh!

Your mind looks like a bordello
Your head looks like a tree
I look like you, baby
But you don't look like me, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

Ahh, sweet angel
Can't you numb anymore
Home time, hey hey
I'm sliding under your door
With the midnight ghosts
With my claws of steel