Down in the cellar in the boho zone
i went looking for some sweet inspiration, oh well
just another hard-time band
with negro affectations
i was a hopeful in rooms like this
when i was working cheap
it's an old romance-the boho dance
it hasn't gone to sleep
But even on the scuffle
the cleaner's press was in my jeans
and any eye for detail
caught a little lace along the seams
And you were in the parking lot
subterranean by your own design
the virtue of your style inscribed
on your contempt for mine
jesus was a beggar, he was rich in grace
and solomon kept his head in all his glory
it's just that some steps outside the boho dance
have a fascination for me
A camera pans the cocktail hour
behind a blind of potted palms
and finds a lady in a paris dress
with runs in her nylons
You read those books where luxury
comes as a guest to take a slave
books where artists in noble poverty
go like virgins to the grave
don't you get sensitive on me
'cause i know you're just too proud
you couldn't step outside the boho dance now
even if good fortune allowed
Like a priest with a pornographic watch
looking and longing on the sly
sure it's stricken from your uniform
but you can't get it out of your eyes
Nothing is capsulized in me
on either side of town
the streets were never really mine
not mine these glamour gowns