I was sitting in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania… Six o'clock in the morning… Got up too early… It was a terrible mistake… Sittin' there face-to-face with a 75¢ glass of orange juice About as big as my finger And a bowl of horribly fore-shortened corn flakes And I said to myself "This is the life… "
She's 200 years old So mean she couldn't grow no lips She's 200 years old So mean she couldn't grow no lips (Boy, she'd be in trouble if she tried to grow a mustache…)
She's 200 years old Squatting down And poppin' up In front of the juke box Like she had true religion Boy She's 200 years old Squattin' down Poppin' up Front o' the juke box Just like she'd had true religion Boy Boy, boy, it's 200 years Half of this, none of that Was 50… Oh squat, yeah, oh, now She got religion now, boy Oh, she's 200 years old Oh, she told me She just, she just can't grow no lips Squat Down So mean she Can't grow no lips 200 years old Whaddya mean she can't grow no lips… Squattin' down Poppin' up 'n down at the juke box OWW! She got the true religion, boy BoyTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
