been flirting with you for a while
“i like your eyes”, “i like your style”
when you said you liked mine too
i thought i could get close to you
you called me often, made me laugh
(and)soon we had made dinner plans
we ate a lot and i got drunk
we closed the restaurant down
i was thinking “is it your place or mine?”
you said you didn’t have the time
you said you had to work but it was already past 2
* are you a doctor?
are you an artist?
are you the man
who cleans the streets when i’m in bed?
are you a writer?
do you drive a taxi until dawn?
(or) am i just too naive to know
what’s going on?
last friday i went out with friends
to hear my favorite dj spin
i danced until my feet got sore
then i saw you on the floor
i asked you to come dance with me
you said “i’d love to but you see,
even though you’re looking fine,
i’m working. i don’t have the time.”
but you’re not behind the bar,
you’re not bouncing or parking cars
so tell me what exactly do you do
* (repeat)
at carol’s party last weekend
i brought you by to meet my friends
when we walked in, the room went dead
someone took me aside and said,
“i don’t think he’s your type,
he deals drugs every night
and besides that he has a girlfriend or two.”
so, you’re not a doctor
you’re not an artist
you’re not the man who cleans the streets
when i’m in bed, no, no
you’re not a writier
you don’t drive a taxi until dawn
i guess i was too naive to know
what’s going on
(repeat)
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