Come on, Woman
Come on woman,
Get real, man
Get real, man,
Get real ,man.
With your low-cut T-shirt
And your lacey bra,
With your high-waist summer dress
And your strap-on sandals,
With your pony tail
And your long, gentle neck,
With your sunglasses
And your painted nails,
With your little lap dog
And your bracelets, too,
With your straight-cut bangs
And your legs up to here,
With your dangling earrings
And your cute tattoo,
With your tight cardigan
And your high heel shoes,
With your soft pink face
And your hazel saucer eyes,
With your swaying tassels
And your sweet sashay,
With your one piece swimsuit
And your pulled back top,
With your long lithe fingers
And your handbag full of things,
With a floral hair tie round your wrist
And your hair pulled behind your little fairy ears,
With your painted toes
And a simple cross round our throat,
With your bare, smooth collar bone
And your girlfriend chatter,
With your opaque white blouse
And your short mini skirt,
With your low-cut jeans
And your black shoulder bag,
With your clean Ivory soap smell
And your long eyelashes,
With your small compact mirror
And your plain and simple tights,
With your belly button ring
And your small sequined purse,
With your tall black boots
And your coy table manners.
Oh, come on, come on, come on woman,
Get real, man.
It’s killing me,
But I want to see you again.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah!