And She Used To Dance

She’s got a miracle mouth, I guess that’s how she first got laid,
By a wealthy man who made her rich, but didn’t treat her right.
But ooh she’s oh so savvy, she knows she could have had the lot,
But she hangs with those who don’t want her and she’s so much happier that way.
She keeps all her poems in a little seashell-backed book,
And there are lots of drawings of insects and flowers in there.
And she likes to tease her followers with her walk, her smile, her moves,
And she knows for now she’ll never need to lean on them.
She’s been through the mill and hurt by a man,
But she was weak and gave him chance after chance,
You know she was friends with writers and poets long ago,
And she used to dance.
Man, she could talk for England, came from the rough part of town,
But she wants to better herself and she’ll do whatever she can
To rock Camden Town and Oxford Street but lose none of that Moorside charm,
And she’s ever-so-sophisticated, she’s an artist, don’t you know?
And she buys her stash of crack and hash from only the classiest dealers
Who charge a little more than the firework crew but who wants to mingle with that crowd?
‘Cos a user ain’t a user if they’re wearing Prada, and a dealer ain’t a dealer if he’s married
And lives in a nice little flat in the City near the river where The It Crowd come out to play.
She’s been through the mill and hurt by a man,
But she was weak and gave him chance after chance,
You know she was friends with writers and poets long ago,
And she used to dance.
She blows kisses with her fingers and totters off on heels so high she needs an oxygen mask,
And gives the boys a wink as they pass by, they’re not even in her league, but what the hell.
It’s just charity work for her. And she’d love to go to dinner, but not anywhere will do,
And unless your car’s a Beamer or Merc, she’ll hire a cab, where the driver wears a hat.
And don’t think of a second date or even back to yours for coffee,
‘Cos she sees through that shit, she has a good reputation, she’s not that kind of girl,
But she’ll gladly drop you home before she speeds off into the night,
And gets dropped off round the corner from the refuge where she lives.
She’s been through the mill and hurt by a man,
But she was weak and gave him chance after chance,
You know she was friends with writers and poets long ago,
And she used to dance.
Yeah, she gets dropped off round the corner from the refuge where she lives.
‘Cos she doesn’t want her chauffeur to know she’s on the run,
From a man that beat her senseless, used her, abused her and such,
‘Cos those women are such failures and she’s not like that at all,
She’s strong and she’s successful and the talk of London Town,
She’s got friends and a career and admirers who worship the ground she walks on
And she tells herself that repeatedly as she huddles down under the cotton blanket
On her cot and cries herself to sleep.
She’s been through the mill and hurt by a man,
But she was weak and gave him chance after chance,
You know she was friends with writers and poets long ago,
And she used to dance,
And she used to dance,
And she used to dance.