When you're up on your pedestal
they say the moon is on the present.
And when you're down in the rut they say
the blues are self-evident.
When you rummage through your purse
they say she''ll never escape through there.
You're the queen of this bar and this neighborhood.
This is your turf.
I don't belong here.
Hid and seek and seek and save my place.
I spy a barfly sitting down to grace.
Homebase
Homebase
When you're up on your pedestal
they say she looks just like Grace Kelly.
When you're groveling on your swivel-stool
they take their turns with a machete.
The apple of their bloodshot eyes.
The butt of the collective joke
goes bumming lights where none are lit,
and manages to salvage a smoke.
Hide and seek and seek and hide your face.
I spy a barfly flickering by my homebase.
Homebase
Homebase