There's a place in the town, a statue,
|
She'd make me wait beneath,
|
But its magnificent archways, archways,
|
That's where I'd go to weep.
|
|
I'm right up onto the counter;
|
Showgirl, perfect the slow body-roll.
|
And breakaway from the anger, oh, hoe,
|
Just got to let it all go,
|
|
But she loves me
|
More than anyone who wouldn't lay a hand.
|
She keeps mace spray,
|
For you can't rely on the common man.
|
|
That night up under the starlight,
|
Holly, you call, 'the great blistering blue,'
|
A strange formation came down from the ceiling,
|
And it began to move.
|
|
And so the shattering shards of glass fell,
|
And glistened this way and that,
|
But she would say I won't find my way through the plaster;
|
I'm an empty hourglass in the sand,
|
|
But she loves me,
|
More than anyone who wouldn't speak like that.
|
She keeps mace spray,
|
For you can't rely on the common man.
|
|
But it is alright,
|
Here in the time and the place I am,
|
You leave a light on all night,
|
Just to remind of the place I am.
|
|
-----------------
|
Mace Spray
|
| The Jezabels |