On nights like this,
When the world's a bit amiss,
And the lights go down
Across the trailer park.
I get down,
I feel had,
I feel on the verge of going mad;
And then it's time to punch the clock.
I put on some make-up
And turn up the tape deck
And pull the wig down on my head.
Suddenly I'm Miss Midwest
Midnight checkout queen,
Until I head home
And put myself to bed.
I look back on where I'm from,
Look at the woman I've become,
And the strangest things
Seem suddenly routine.
I look up from my vermouth on the rocks,
A gift wrapped wig still in the box
Of towering velveteen.
I put on some make-up
And some Laverne Baker
And pull the wig down from the shelf.
Suddenly I'm Miss Beehive 1963,
Until I wake up
And turn back to myself.
Some girls they have natural ease,
They wear it any way they please;
With their French flip curls
And perfumed magazines.
Wear it up,
Let it down.
This is the best way that I've found
To be the best you've ever seen.
I put on some make-up
And turn up the eight-track,
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf.
Suddenly I'm Miss Farrah Fawcett
From TV,
Until I wake up
And turn back to myself.
Shag, bi-level, bob,
Dorothy Hammil do,
Sausage curls, chicken wings,
It's all because of you.
With your blow dried, feather back,
Toni home wave, too.
Flip, fro, frizz, flop,
It's all because of you,
It's all because of you,
It's all because of you.
I put on some make-up,
Turn up the eight-track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf.
Suddenly I'm this punk rock star
Of stage and screen,
And I ain't never,
I'm never turning back.
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