Black sweatband, sticks blur in her hands; she's the drummer She weaves a beat through Kinks and Deep Purple covers Can't shake her off She keeps me tied in knots I'm tangled from the inside out Strung out and tired, a funeral-crier; I'm heartsick So I twist and turn till the ropes start to burn and I'm frantic All those uptown boys making noise but she just yawns With a wicked back beat, she flips them off and then she's gone