
Fell asleep on your couch, full face of makeup, sequins scrape my skin raw. Taylor’s wrong — this is the real shit, the life of a showgirl. That stain won’t lift, right where I left it — aww, your baby blanket, wearing my shade of lipstick. I’ll be with you, long after you kick me, to make room for the next ingenue His mom made me breakfast, without even comment on my state of undress. You could tell by her rough hands, she’s been on my side of the harness, faced off with many a dawn, many an empty bed, the trace of a man where the weight of him leaves a dent. They’ll be with us, long after the congress, like fashion dolls boxed in the closet. Once a woman’s got a mind to, Once a woman’s got designs to, Once a woman feels inclined to, do what it is she gonna do. Wild horses, men with hoses, electromagnets, alien gadgets, couldn’t tear her away from the jackalberry tree, where she can take her time to consume her prey, leisurely. Showed up in your driveway, unannounced, no excuse. Made up a tale of a borrowed breakfast plate I “forgot” at my new boyfriend’s place. I could feel her aura in the curtains, through the windows; those cornflower blue rosettes were starting to piss me off. “Can I use your bathroom? I drove all this way to bring back your plate. I’ll be quick, I promise.” (as soon as I rifle through your medicine cabinet, find out which brand of perfume harpooned a guy like you, so I can avoid it.) Once I’ve got a mind to, Once I’ve got designs to, Once I feel inclined to, do whatever it is I’m gonna do. Wild elephants, men with nets, gods and devils, black-magic spells, can’t tear me away from my subterranean nest, where I chew my victims with no intent of ever finishing them. Once a woman’s got a mind to (Can’t tear me away) Once a woman’s got designs to (Can’t tear me away) Once a woman is inclined to (Can’t tear me away) Once a woman’s got a mind to... (Can’t tear me away...) Once a woman’s got designs to... (Can’t tear me away...) Once a woman is inclined to... (Can’t tear me away...)