I'm up on the eleventh floor And I'm watching the cruisers below He's down on the street And he's trying hard to pull sister Flo Oh, my heart's in the basement My weekend's at an all time low 'Cause she's hoping to score So I can't see her letting him go Walk out of her heart Walk out of her mind Oh, not her She's so swishy in her satin and tat In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat Oh God, I could do better than that Oh yeah She's an old-time ambassador of sweet talking, night walking games Oh and she's known in the darkest clubs for pushing ahead of the dames If she says she can do it, then she can do it She don't make false claims But she's a queen, and such are queens, that your laughter is sucked in their brains Now she's leading him on And she'll lay him right down Yes, she's leading him on And she'll lay him right down But it could have been me Yes, it could have been me Why didn't I say? Why didn't I say? No, no, no She's so swishy in her satin and tat In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat Oh God, I could do better than that So I lay down a while and I gaze at my hotel wall Oh the cot is so cold, it don't feel like no bed at all Yeah, I lay down a while and I look at my hotel wall But he's down on the street so I throw both his bags down the hall And I'm phoning a cab 'cause my stomach feels small There's a taste in my mouth and it's no taste at all It could have been me, oh yeah, it could have been me Why didn't I say, why didn't I say No, no, no She's so swishy in her satin and tat In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat Oh God, I could do better than that
Written by: David Bowie