She had eyes like dirty emeralds and hair like melted gold
And a taste for silver dollars, or so I’m told
She said: “There’s things a lover needs or else a lover comes undone.”
But she’s got a walk that leaves me wonderin’ am I still the only one?

I ain’t got the means, ain’t got the money
Thank god the church closed the banks on Sunday
Cause I’ve got two strong shoulders and this old rock hammer
Puttin’ two and two, and two and two, and two and two together

Singin’: “Hey now, what can you do?
Oh hey now, what can you do?
Oh hey now, hey now, what can you do?”
You went off happily ever after
Sadly all I was ever after’s you

A carnation on my collar and diamonds on my cuff
Gonna wine and dine my baby cause sometimes whinin’ ain’t enough
But let me tell you friends about the recipe for pain . . .
It’s a splash of fresh magnificence with a hint of old disdain

She said: “What you doin’ baby? You’re dressed up like a clown.
Looks like a touch of class done kicked your ass and thrown you to the ground.
Believe me, it’s so easy to see whose dues are paid . . .
New money smells like vinyl. Honey, old money smells like suede.”


I said: “Why you talkin’ crazy, baby? I bought these things for you.”
She said: “You’re throwin’ round your money like you just robbed a bank or two.”
I said: “Maybe I’ve been workin’ hard and maybe had some luck
And maybe we should go before the maitre d' hears us.”

So I stood up in a fluster and I went upfront to pay
She went back to the powder room to powder up her face
And I guess she found the telephone and I guess she found the time
Cause while I picked up the dinner check, sweet honey dropped the dime


I heard the sirens comin’ and I was out the door
Back to put the money where the money was before
I made it to the bank and I made it through the wall
But I kicked a brick behind me and I heard the tunnel fall

So here I am and here I sit and here is where I’ll be
Trapped inside the bank vault til the police rescue me
And take me to the big house where there ain’t no girls like you
And where the boys all tell you what they want and that’s all you’ve gotta do


Copyright 2008. Words and music by Danny Schmidt.