| Lyrics: | I was sittin' in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania, six
o'clock in the morning, got
up to early, it was a terrible
mistake... sittin' there face-to-face with a 75 cent glass of
orange
juice about as big as my finger and a bowl of horribly foreshortened
cornflakes,
and I said to myself: "This is the life!"...
She's 200 years old,
so mean, she
couldn't grow no lips
Boy, she'd be in trouble if she tried to grow a mustache
She's
two hundred years old
Squattin' down & pockin' up
In front of the juke box
just like
she had True Religion.. BOY!
She's two hundred years old
Hoy!, hoy!, in 200
years,
half of this, none of that,
one.. fifty.. oh squattin',
Yeah-ah, ain't she
got
Oohhh, she got religion now, boy.
Oohhhh, ?? ?? ??
Oohhhh, she's just
mean,
she just, she just can't grow no lips.
Squat.. down, so mean she can't grow no
lips.
200 years old, so mean she can't grow no lips |
