She's a broken winged angel. Refugee from things her mama knew. And she's done everything the Bible say not to do. Well I don't know if she believes in Jesus. The good book or even Satan you see. I'm just trying to get her to believe in me. Oh 'cause when I see her face. No matter where I am I'm in the right place. And the girls I left behind. Oh they never satisfied me it's so true. But baby baby you do. She's the belle of Eighth Street. High society's midnight vamp. Oh she's my queen and I'm her tramp. Yes she's a free falling flyer. And she flows whichever way that the wind blows. And she's the only woman I never knew. Who could teach me more about me bind me in chains. And still let me be free. My heart swells up inside. Starts beating like I'm gonna die. And my body breaks in pain. As she falls down on me like the rain. It's only her and my songs that keep me from going insane. And I guess I'm one of those people. Who measures love in pain. You see I never had too much personal success. And to me there's nothing sweeter. Than a teardrop of rain. I just love that feeling of sadness. Oh and it worries me so .... She's my West Side angel. She looks so funky in her Hollywood wing. And she knows how I stumble when I talk. So she says: "Don't talk babe just sing". And I have seen her body in candle glow. In the deep heart of the night. When you finally let loose of everything. Oh and she loves me like such a good woman. And still oh she's just a sweet young thing. And I know this might sound crazy. or just the words of a young fool. But I swear I'd be on the floor. And she ever walked out the door. I swear I'd wish that she would shoot me first. And I know that sounds insane but sometimes I believe it's true. And that's what scares me worst. 'Cause I dance for her. Take any chance for her. And I play for her. Lord God knows I play for her. And I need for her. And I bleed for her.