| Well an old saying goes mind your manners mind your mother
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| And a man can find a lover who is tan and undercover
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| Well she might lie about her age, but lady I got no complaints
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| She can be as crazy and as foolish as she wants to be
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| Because her old school ways are absolutely positive and perfectly sane
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| I’m saying I ain’t never seen a saint
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| I met her at an old cop bar down in Silverlake
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| Where we spoke about the give and we joked about the take
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| And when they asked for identification I knew her’s probably was a fake
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| She’s just another older lover undercover
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| She’s just another old school lover undercover
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| You’re wearing that thin disguise, don’t apologize
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| And your birthday suit suits you
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| Well it suits me too its one hell of a costume
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| I cant find the zipper anywhere on your back
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| Perhaps its attached to the breach of your ass-crack
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| Burr it’s cold in here, you keep it hot dear
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| With a sip of mexican coffee and some grapefruit juice
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| A glass of coke a glass of wine just to keep it loose
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| Oh the things that you say and do, wow.
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| And the way that you groove to the music
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| Like The Who and The Velvet Underground old sounds
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| You like indie rock, spock rock, anything you’ve found
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| In the backseat of your downtown brown and bruised beat up BMW
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| Chorse… your just another lover undercover…
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| Any melodramatic role is just a garment of the soul
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| I respect your nakedness and the way that you unfold
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| and the way your older stories are alive and still its told
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| You’re just another lover undercover |