I think I saw you sometime yesterday
You had your hand in the pocket of a man
Saying things that you don't understand
Like you do every single day
Maybe all the good girls got away

And the man's got a smile on his face
I don't think he truly understands
What he's done and what he's gonna face
Did I mention, that you may have your taste
You're still just an old disgrace

A perfect day on a Sunday afternoon
The cafe crowd and a quiet, calm monsoon
Reaches down into a bag colored like the sun
And pulls out a gold encrusted gun
I hope the man had his days of fun