The Fallen Woman

She reminds me some of a blue eyed doll
A strange look there in her eyes
Surprisingly quick with her movements
Like a woman who's learned to survive
She empties the ashtrays and passes the booze
In a crude but professional style
And her facial contortions are painfully
Set in a look that resembles a smile
The small crowded bar roars loud
Its approval of some verbal
Blow that she's dealt
By telling a trucker from the Redball
Express to have intercourse with himself
In my mind I can see her room
The place where the woman lives
The rollers and the curlers and
The old panty hose
And the ceiling that leaks like a sieve
And there's pictures of Merle and Johnny
And June and Kennedy there with a flag
And a letter from home that
She's read ten times
And an old blue traveling bag
You know that man she loves
Ah he's puttin' her on
But no queen could love him more
And in her mind their ship will
Sail to a hundred exotic shores
Lord she'll get no pity from
Me no she's tough and she wouldn't care
But life is made up of wishes and dreams
And she's had more than her share
As I sit here and drink and look for a song
I think I just found me one
There's a difference in a fallen woman
And one who is still hangin' on