the mother hips – magazine lyrics
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an anorexic young upstart struts down the runway
she is so thin but more gaunt then lean
she cut down on her baby fat the fun way, checked herself into a magazine
like every preacher needs a sinner and the gangster likes the sub-machine
experts get paid by the beginners
and the bombsh-ll needs her magazine
ventura police told me that i was weaving on my way down the hall to suite two-ten
see, i get blown away so easily, all it takes me is a few puffs of wind
when i go out to see my baby, i pick her up at ten-fifteen
and as i wait for all her clothes to get put on i sit down and check out a magazine
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