Her beautiful arseCantilevering over a table of hors d'oeuvresShe took a sip of her drink and said,"Hey, this music really gets on my nerves."I said, "What music?"She said, "The music in my headSometimes it makes me wish I were deadIt's like a requiemIt's like a rodeoCan't you hear it?"I said, "No."She said, "Like where is hereAnd, tell me, how will I know when I get thereI wear my little black dress, I'm just waiting aroundWill I think to comb my hair?"I said, "Will it matter?"She says, "Matter everywhereNo one here, they never play fairI hope heaven is a place where sloe gin fizz comes inThose little glasses, you know the onesThat are blue on the bottom and thin on the top?"CHORUSShe said she said e saidShe's sad, she saidShe said she said she saidShe's sadShe said she said she saidShe's sad she said she's sadShe said she said she saidShe said, "You know, the people here, all they wanna doIs pick you apart; trouble is, they don't have timeTo put you back together again.I hate New York. I've thought about moving, to ItalyOr Spain or Hell, maybe even Tennessee."CHORUSAll she saidWas she's sad she saidAll she saidWas she's sad---------------------------------
