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Joe Nolan
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San Fransisco Girl
You wear your make-up like Hemingway You're a minimalist in every sense You talk about yourself in third-person Your future in present-tense And your soft summer dresses hang so loose But they don't hide your shape You walk like a swan down on the pier You're a swan among the apes And the fishmonger's sons all call your name You don't hear them through your curls You're my beaded and baubled and beautiful baby My San Fransisco Girl
You've read all your Jean-Paul Sartre Your Kafka and your Camus You're a philosopher in dungarees And your a poet in plastic shoes You carry your purse like a Catholic curse Your bag it drags you down It's filled with all the garbage and the trinkets and the junk You need to get by in this town And graffiti boys they paint your face You don't see them through your curls You're my tripped-out, flipped-out, drug-tongued baby My San Francisco Girl
更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 Your voice soft like the morning fog Your laugh like a big brass band You got seven silk scarves wrapped around your wrist And velvet gloves on both your hands You got a Spanish belt made of Cuban leather And a holster on your hip You got Italian glasses made in Taiwan To match your painted lips And your face is sculpted in a block of salt Behind your sticky, cherry curls You're my lovely, lonely one and only My San Francisco Girl
Black tights on white dancer's legs Bone bracelets on your wrists I love to watch your wooden toes I love to see them twist You got red roses landing at your feet Tears in your sweet eyes And your French perfume, just like a flower blooms Whenever you walk by Red ribbon streamers in your hair Twistin' through your curls Your my ballerina, my signorina My San Francisco Girl
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