She's gotta private city
an apartment building all to herself.
She's got a little black skirt, a way to flirt with guys.
She's gotta bottle of whisky and yellowish eyes, yellowish eyes.
CHORUS
But does it, make any difference to you?
But does it make any difference to you anyways?
Anyways, these days.

She's got an indian maid.
and she, wakes up late.
She's got the time to spare, and a reason to care.
She's got a heavenly body, she's got porcealin smile.
She's got candy in her mouth, she want you to stay awhile.

CHORUS.

Do The trees matter without her?
Do the leaves fall on the ground.
Do your feet get tangled without her?
You fall down, you fall down.
She's got a private city.