She reminds me some of a blue eyed doll a strange look there in her eyes
Surprisingly quick with her movements like a woman who's learned to survive
She empties the ashtrays and passes the booze in a crude but professional style
And her facial contoprtions were painfully set in a look that resambles the smile

The small crowded bar roars loud its approval of some verbal blow that she's dealt
By telling a trucker from the Redball Express to have intercourse with himself
In my mind I can see her room the place where the woman lives
The rollers and the curlers and the old panty hose
And the ceiling that leeks like a sieve

And there's pictures of Merle and Johnny and June and Kennedy there with a flag
And a letter from home that she's read ten times and an old blue traveling bag
You know that man she loves ah he's puttin' her on
But no queen could ever love him more
And in her mind their ship will sail to a hundred exotic shores

Lord she'll get no pity from me no she's tough and she wouldn't care
But life is made up of wishes and dreams and she's had more than her share
As I sit here and drink and look for a song I think I just find me one
There's a difference in a fallen women and the one who is still hangin' on