Tom WaitsPasties And A G-String

Smelling like a brewery, looking like a tramp, I ain't got a quarter, got a postage stamp Been five o'clock shadow boxing all around the town, Talking with the old man, sleeping on the ground Bazanti bootin al zootin' al hoot and Al Cohn Sharing this apartment with a telephone pole And a fish-net stocking, spike-heel shoes, Strip tease, prick tease, car keys blues And the porno floor show, live nude girls, Dreamy and creamy and brunette curls Chesty Morgan and Watermelon Rose Raise my rent and take off all your clothes With trench coats, magazines, a bottle full of rum, She's so good, make a dead man come Pasties and a G-string, beer and a shot Portland through a shot glass and a Buffalo squeeze Wrinkles and Cherry and Twinkie and Pinkie and Fifi live from Gay Paree Fanfares, rim shots, back stage, who cares, all this hot burlesque for me (scat) Cleavage, cleavage, thighs and hips From the nape of her neck to the lipstick lips Chopped and channeled and lowered and louvred And the cheater slicks and baby moons She's a-hot and ready, creamy and sugared And the band is awful and so are the tunes (scat) Crawling on her belly, and shaking like jelly, And I'm getting harder than Chinese algebrassieres And cheers from the (hmm) compendium here "Hey sweetheart" they're yelling for more You're squashing out your cigarette butts on the floor And I like Shelly, and you like Jane And what was the girl with the snakeskin's name? And it's an early-bird matinee, come back any day, Get you a little something that you can't get at home Get you a little something that you can't get at home It's pasties and a G-string, beer and a shot Portland through a shot glass and a Buffalo squeeze Popcorn, front row, higher than a kite, and I'll be back tomorrow night, And I'll be back tomorrow night (scat)
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