I'm standing at a traffic light somewhere in west L.A.. Waiting for the sign to change then I'll be on my way. The noise, the heat, the crush of cars just robs me of my nerve.
Got my work clothes on full of sweat and dirt. All this holy dust upon my face and shirt. Heading uptown now just as the shifts are changing. To Grand Central Station.
Girls like me aren't hard to find. We grow like roses on the vine. And wear our hearts on our sleeves. You probably know a girl like me. . We live alone and in our heads.