I Am Erica

I met a little girl on the marketplace,
born without a proper face,
made to fill that magical sensation.
A lovely voice like a radio,
talking in a lavatory disarray
Yacuzzi conversation flow.
It was the summer of 187.
She played piano, stiff to the bone,
blue in the eyes under a veil of leather,
we dressed her in red, but she took off her hip,
and now she’s gone for good.
Dance, dance, dance, I’m Erica.
Look at me, lucky me, I’m all you got.
Yes, I’ve been in love with you baby
ever since I was a high school boy,
but I never said it’s gonna be easy.
Hello, hello, we’re putting up a show.
The Germans in the attic baking chains of little Joes,
It’s such a beautiful day, they’re crying on display
where bitterflies on motorbikes and nasty conversations are the best.
Dance, dance, dance, I’m Erica.
Look at me, look at me, I’m all you got.
Yes I had a crush on you baby ever since I was an orphanage girl.
You promised me a place in your world.
Baby, baby, baby, can I kiss you?
Can I kiss you on the lip?
Can I put you in a jelly belly jar and take a sip?
Baby, baby can I touch you?
Can I touch you on the thigh.
Can I touch you where my shoulder needs to cry?
They watch, they touch, they promised way too much.
The greasy hands are ripping of her pants and all her friends they say:
Hello, hello, look at her now.
Just hanging from the chandelier, she’s such a ballerina.
Oh God, you must have seen her when she was doing the fandango.
Now roll the curtains down.
Here comes the queen of the play,
the Japanese girl with the rusty tambourine.
Dance, dance, dance America!
Look at me, Look at me, I’m all you got.
Yes I’ve been loving you baby ever since I was an orphanage girl.