Pretty Miss Fortune’s sitting on a curb.
She don’t cry, said she never had it worse.
She ain’t got no hope, not even to lose.
Pretty Miss Fortune’s just a-waitin’ for The Blues.
The Blues come in hot,
Got her sweating in the lawman’s heat.
The Blues come on strong,
Got her feeling lonely at her party.
The Blues have that rhythm--
O how they’re light on their feet.
The Blues make her shiver, every morning
In the mirror, when she sees
Herself looking so goddamned old,
And her eyes shining so goddamned dull.
She’s got a heart that races to her death.
Her mind solemnly embraces every step.
She’ll never face up to the fact,
That she’s an optimist
Exposed in the negative,
And that’s that.
So when you see pretty Miss Fortune in the street,
Don’t tip your cap/ don’t nod your head.
Don’t flash her a wink/ don’t blow her a kiss.
Just run!--run as fast as you can.
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