I want to be a mysterious woman
I want to write mysterious songs
I want everyone to wonder
what is she thinking about?
existentialism? nihilism? wrong
I am thinking about
defrosting my refrigerator
but I could get into mysterious mood
watch me ask the bartender
for a drink he cannot make
watch me order mysterious food
food even Julia Child
cannot pronounce right
from cookbooks that time has forgot
then maybe I will read
Crime and Punishment for fun
then again, maybe not
I want to be a mysterious woman
tantalize you with my come-hither stare
maybe it will work a little better
if you pretend I'm not wearing underwear
If you pretend I was never a Girl Scout
and I never learned how to twirl baton
ahh
I feel a mysterious song coming on
I think I hear I scream
I think I hear ice cream
melting all over
the rock hard bread
which is stuck to
the chicken parts
long since dead
they're in a cold box
within a cold box
within a warm box
(which is my room)
there's a ceiling
there's a floor
there's a wall
there's a window
look at the moon
it's a marble, it's a bu*ton
it's a sequin, it's a polkadot
stitched into the velvet sky
the pocket of Sir Lancelot
who is riding on Pegasus
who is fighting with the Pleiades
who is fighting Ca**iopeia
who is fighting with Hercules
who is fighting with Betelguex
who is fighting with the Milky Way
that is stuck to the Bird's Eye Peas
that is stuck to the ice cube tray
that is stuck to the chicken parts
that is stuck to the rock-hard bread
hey, what am I doing here? I should be home defrosting my refrigerator instead
But I want to be a mysterious woman
I hate being so easy to read
hey, bartender, give me a light yeah, a Bud light
and a plate of pommes frites
is all I need.