Just walked out of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes at the Academy Museum and I'm still in full Marilyn mode. Bet you'd forget what you came over for.
Just walked out of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes at the Academy Museum and I'm still in full Marilyn mode. Bet you'd forget what you came over for.
Trail was empty and the barn's even emptier. These boots are the only thing still on and I'm not in any hurry to fix that. Tell me you'd look away.
Los Angeles Azules just turned Grand Park into one giant cumbia floor and I haven't stopped moving since the first note. This is what the city sounds like when it stops pretending it has somewhere better to be. Bet you couldn't keep up.
Chucho Valdés is at Blue Note tonight and I've been lying here with his records shaking the walls since I walked in the door. Tell me you could keep your hands to yourself.
Nobody's awake for miles and this rooftop is all mine — stretched out with nothing between me and the skyline. You'd come up here and ruin it, wouldn't you?
Sunday morning, steam still on the glass, and this towel's hanging on by pure stubbornness. You'd have to look away first.
Cold Waves is tonight and this mesh top can't make up its mind. Tell me you'd help me decide.
PiL shook every wall at The Belasco and I came home still vibrating — stripped the second I walked in and now I'm lying here daring sleep to try me. Tell me you could walk in and keep your hands to yourself.
Buddy Guy at the Bowl tonight and the blues already has me in the tub with no plans to move. That guitar does something to me I can't explain. Tell me you wouldn't just stand in the doorway.
Took the trail hard enough that everything's sticking to me and now I've got the whole barn to myself. These boots are the only thing staying on. Tell me you'd be able to look away.