madame george

down on cyprus avenue

with a child-like vision leaping into view. the clicking clacking of the high-heeled shoes

ford and fitzroy; madam george. marching with the soldierboy behind

he's much older now with hat on

drinking wine

and the smell of sweet perfume comes drifting thru

in the cool night breeze like shalimar

and then your self control lets go

and suddenly you're up against the bathroom door. the hallway lights are finely getting dim

you're in the front row touching him

and outside they're making all the stops

the kinds out in the streets collecting bottle tops

going for cigarettes and matches to the shops

happy talking

madam george

and that's when you fall

oh

oh

that's when you fall

and you fall into a trance

sitting on a sofa playing games of chance

with your folded arms in history books you glance

into the eyes of madam george

and you think you've found your bag

you're getting weaker and your knees begin to sag

and in the corner playing dominoes in drag

the one and only madam george

and outside the frosty window raps

she says be cool