Spanish Guitar
You bring your red shoes and I'll wear the dress. The one with the flower at the shoulder, that reminds you of Rita.
I'll wear the orange lipstick, because you noticed it. You'll pick the restaurant, and I'll pick the club, and together we'll get the hell out of this backward little airhead town.
We'll ride low underneath the glow of a streetlight, past the brick buildings of the wharf district until the cool white stare of new buildings point the way to excitement.
We'll order something real (no tofu), and we'll talk about my mamma. Bless you for liking women, all types, all shapes, and being interested in them beyond the shallow of their sexes.
Politics and art will come around, but I don't think I'm that deep. I'm a Chinese food and Spongebob girl.
And then we'll dance. Dancing with a man of rhythm is probably the most beautiful thing in the world to me. And boy, you can move, you can make me feel it.
But what will happen when they turn the chairs upside down and scream for the last call?
That I'll leave up to you.
Just bring the shoes, and I'll bring the dress.