Don't Go Home with Your Hard-on          
             

I was born in a beauty salon 
My father was a dresser of hair 
My mother was a girl you could call on 
When you called she was always there 

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But don't go home with your hard-on 
It will only drive you insane 
You can't shake it (or break it) with your Motown 
You can't melt it down in the rain 

I've looked behind all of the faces 
That smile you down to your knees 
And the lips that say, come on, taste us 
And when you try to, they make you say please 

Here comes your bride with her veil on 
Approach her, you wretch, if you dare 
Approach her, you ape with your tail on 
Once you have her she'll always be there 

So I work in that same beauty salon 
I'm chained to the old masquerade 
The lipstick, the shadow, the silicone 
I follow my father's trade 

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