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Call Me, Blondie |
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Debbie Harry Debbie Harry listen to me when I tell you baby, you really straighten out my joint I mean, you are the duly-appointed queen-bitch alien ambassador of punk and French is your official language I mean, Debbie
Debbie Harry, when you slip out of English and do dépêche-toi, dépêche-toi et attend it's like I can hear you changing clothes in the front seat of your no-shit powder blue Cadillac convertible and there's no secrets lost between me and your Calvin Klein jeans
Debbie Harry Debbie Harry a thousand times: Debbie Harry Andy
Warhol's 25 Multicolored Debbies wearing peach flavored lipstick over their eyes and their pursed, rapturous lips black as Jackie O sunglasses singing songs on 8-Track and blowing kisses
Debbie, Debbie Harry when I tell you listen to me girl, you really mix me up like middle school I mean Debbie, Debbie Harry you sing about love like a warning, like The Omen like Iron Eyes Cody crying at highways
Debbie Harry Debbie Harry I wouldn't kick you out of bed for eating I mean, when your voice rises from the synthesized silk sheets of "Call Me" like a tube-topped polyester phoenix you deliver me like Fed Ex, and if you would have me, Debbie Harry you could live forever like Shirley Temple Black in the palace of the Velvet Revolution. |
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