Daddy’s girl wobbles down a rumbling street

lined with cruising johns late at night

in a big city she don’t know much about


Her thrift store shawl and knitted cap

ain’t gonna get her no man with money

who’ll ask her to hop in his car

but she don’t know that neither


The cheerleader in her legs still wants to leap

but they won’t work no more

and she can’t remember no cheers


Now and then a guy might want to buy her a burger

but along comes a know-it-all, pulls him aside,

shakes a finger at him and lectures,

“No, no, don’t do that…there’s shelters

for those kind of people”

Baby’s not that lucky with strangers anyway

She stumbles a lot, forgets her words,

and her teeth need cleaning real bad


All she’s got are two feet, a broken-down face,

chewed-up finger nails and a black trash bag

hanging off her right shoulder that’s wearing thin


She stumbles around, stumbles around,

in the middle of traffic against red lights,

getting honked at right and left


Baby’s just not doing very well overall, Daddy,

wandering out there in the zone of the long forgotten