Rodney Crowell

Dady bought you like a toy
Mama taught you to be coy
Make your bed down in the dirt
Bow Your head, lift your skirt
From your lips to my hears
All down through your tender ears
A poor little rich girl
Junk food heiress
Is born in forth world
Raised in Paris
Well , listen honey
---- with money
I want you

Something changed you
Laid you low
---- your senses
Made you slow
Wrote your name down in the book
State the claim on how you look
I can't blame you if you think
I'd tie you to the kitchen sink
Drain your pockets,drink your blood
Drag you through the mocking mud
Must be said, you made your bed
But I want you

It's the way your hair falls in your face
And the way you move from place to place
It's the way you wear your curse
As if there could be something worse
So he left you with no God
Trapt inside a glass house dying
Waiting for the bricks to fly
Trapt behind --- facade
Had for a woman
Have a heart
Not too down
Not too smart
I will have once something  ---
Eat you down like a tone of bricks
And circumstances ment to break you
Why oh why would God forsake you
Vis-a-vis him or me
I want you
-----
I don't care 
I want you