Well an old saying goes mind your manners mind your mother
And a man can find a lover who is tan and undercover

Well she might lies about her age, but lady I got no complaints
She can be as crazy and as foolish as she wants to be

Because her old school ways are practically technicalities and perfectly sane

I'm saying I ain't never seen a saint.

Well I met her at an old cop bar down in silverlake

Where we spoke about the give and we joked about the take

And when they asked for identification I knew hers probably was a fake

She's just another older lover undercover.

You're wearing that thin disguise. Don't apologize.

And you're birthday suit suits you.

Well it suits me too it's one hell of a costume

I can't find the zipper anywhere on your back

Perhaps it's attached to the breach of your ass-crack

(Burr it's cold in here. You keep it hot dear.)

with a sip of mexican coffee and some grapefruit juice

a glass of coke a glass of wine just to keep it loose

oh the things that you say and do, wow.

And the way that you move to the music

Like the who and the velvet underground old sounds

You like indie rock, spock rock, anything you've found

In the backseat of your downtown brown and bruised beat up bmw

Any melodramatic role is just a garment of the soul

I respect your nakedness and the way that you unfold

and the way your wiser stories are always told