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there she is in her chair
weaving fingers through her hair
waiting for the perfect man to call her phone
every night she finds her place
and now everybody knows her face
but every night she ends up all alone
she wants him tall
with good taste in his wardrobe
successful
with cash ready to spend
a slave to all of her wants and wishes
looking for an answer to her prayer,
is that him, over there?
she spends hours on the scene
like she stepped from a magazine
...so delicious...
she's almost good enough to eat
many men ask her to dance
but she won't give them all a chance
they're not the kind she would ever want to meet
why is it that she can't keep a man?
relationships
last maybe for a week
he loved her
but she told him that he was boring
and now every Friday night finds you
looking out for someone new
somehow she feels
that slipping on her tightest black dress
will bring a man into her life
and bring her happiness
but it's her heart she tries so hard to protect
but she will always be alone
if she don't always come correct
standing outside past four a.m.
as Mister Jones turns off the last strobe light
contemplating what went wrong
why is she alone another night?
no car to take her back to the projects where she lives
to be in any man's warm bed right now
oh, what she wouldn't give
six more blocks to walk
and it suddenly begins to snow
back to Zena's tomorrow night
to give it another go
