10 Jun 2007
From the shake shake shimmy of your hips
I could tell you had a taste for the apocalypse
And oh my Lord, what could I do?
Got a hot old time, got a fancy freeze
A muscleheaded mama down in New Orleans
And oh my Lord, what could I do?
In the crackling wind the heavy blows
The thunder and the lightning and the falling snow
Oh my Lord, I am through!
Don’t hold on to that ace too long
When the weatherman’s got the odds all wrong
Oh my Lord, I am through!
Your golden voice and your smoky eyes
The calming smog and sunny skies
Oh my Lord, those words came true!
From your iron mouth and your spinning wheels
And all the shame that you just don’t feel
Oh my Lord, those words came true!
I could learn the secrets of your soul
If you take me as your Barbie doll
Oh my Lord, what can I do?
We could stretch it out and let it ride
I could be the Bonnie to your Clyde
Oh my Lord, what can I do?