Last Spring in the city of Angels,
I was faced a terrible chore.
My great love had ended and best friends retreated.
T'was high time to open a new door.

Forced to leave a house of mirth,
I'd known none but the greatest of luck.
I packed up my stuff, and gave back the keys,
setting off in my black Nissan truck.

Laida, a girl I'd met in SF,
offered her Hollywood pad.
with time-a-wastin' and homelessness looming
Her pad wasn't soundin' too bad

The place was a godsend, very cosy and girly,
surrounded by gardens and trees.
I could pass the nights watching digital cable,
or picking through her DVDs.

The day I showed up with my boxes,
I'd packed that day while I cried,
there was the sound of another girl there,
kinda knocking about inside.

I made my arrival obious,
by coughing and shouting hello.
A gentleman's duty's to reaasure a lady,
not barge in "a la" creep or weird-O.

She opened the door but a sliver,
hers was the bloodiest of eyes:
Who are you and what is your business?
I'm not into rock and roll guys!

I explained how I'd been invited,
she was by no means satisfied.
She curled back her lip, bared her white teeth,
and just stepped right on back inside.

Desperate to prove my relation
to the "lady" of the house herself
I showed her the key that I'd managed to find,
on the fuse boxe's wee hidden shelf.

And despite my great sense of displeasure,
being treated like some common brute,
I couldn't help but think to myself,
God DAMN is this girl ever cute!

I know not of you MAN she said,
even if you are Laida's mate,
I'M here at the moment and I'm doing my laundry,
so you'll just have to sit there and wait.

With that madamoiselle closed the door,
and she closed it quite hard at that,
I stood on the stoop, and thought to myself,
this girl is a real little brat.

Ten minutes or so passed while I waited,
and she finally made her way out.
I'd hoped that she'd smile or say some goodbye,
but to her I was no more than a lout.

Fast forward now eight or ten months,
To a New york loft - and a whole new kind of play.
This is the place, where I've got the juice,
and guess who'll be coming to stay.

My host, an old war pal of sorts
explains'me his altruistic flash
She's coming over here to work on the film,
and with us she is going to crash.

I hardened my face, and snarled these words,
"Big deal! - that chick's vibe is fleeting."
But I have to confess, with no small trace of shame,
that my heart it sure 'nough went-a-beating.

And so this song reveals to you reader
how man is so strong and so meek.
I don't know whether to slap that girl's face,
or gently carress her dear cheek.