Woorden: Amy Speace. Songs For Bright Streets. The Real Thing.

I don't like men who tell me how to talk and how to dress
I don't like girls who gossip when their own life is a mess
I don't like winter in New York 'cause I don't like too much wind
But I like the way you feel against me naked on my skin
And I'll tell you what I think and I won't sugarcoat it baby,
I am the real thing

I'm too young to know better but I'm too damn old to care
With enough tequila I might take up any dare
I'm as aloof as November and mean like July
But I can purr like a little kitten if you scratch me on my side
I like the way I look although I am not model thin
I am the real thing

Do I make you blush do I talk too loud
Do I drink too much, do I act too proud?
Well take me as I am or take another now
'Cause I am not going to change for nobody no how
I am not a good reformer I found a twisted satisfaction
When I went back to confession just to see the priests' reaction
After quite a pause he asked me if I was contrite then
He gave me 25 Hail Marys to repeat every night
Then I asked him am I free to go repeating all of my sins
I am the real thing

Chorus
You can look to the princess In her high glass tower
Or join us witches we keep very late hours
We are the real thing

(Thanks to Rafael for these lyrics)