On nights like this
When the world's a bit amiss
And the lights go down
across the trailer park
I get down
I feel hard
I feel on the verge of going mad
And then it's time to punch the clock
I put on some make up
And turn on the 8-track deck
And pull the wig back on my head
And suddenly I'm Miss Midwest Midnight Checkout Queen
Until I head home
And I put myself to bed
I look back on where I'm from
And look at the woman I've become
And the strangest things seem suddenly routine
I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks
A gift wrapped wig still in the box
Of towering velveteen
I put on some make up
And some LaVern Baker
And pull the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm Miss Beehive 1963
Until I wake up
And I turn back to myself
Some girls they have natural ease
They wear it any way they please
With their French flip curls and perfumed magazines
Wear it up, let it down
This is the best way that I've found
To be the best you've ever seen
I put on some make up
Turn up the eight track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
And suddenly I'm Miss Farrah Fawcett from TV
Until I wake up
And I turn back to myself
Shag, bi-level, Bob, Dorothy Hamill do
Sausage curl, chicken wings, it's all because of you
With your blow dried, feather backed Toni home wave, too
Flip, for, frizz, flop, it's all because of you
It's all because of you, it's all because of you
Okay
Everybody
I put on some make up
And turn up the eight track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm this punk rock star of stage and screen
And I ain't never
I'm never turning back
