Don't Go Home with Your Hard-on 
I was born in a beauty salon
My father was a dresser of hair
My mother was a girl you could call on
When you called she was always there
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But don't go home with your hard-on
It will only drive you insane
You can't shake it (or break it) with your Motown
You can't melt it down in the rain
I've looked behind all of the faces
That smile you down to your knees
And the lips that say, come on, taste us
And when you try to, they make you say please
Here comes your bride with her veil on
Approach her, you wretch, if you dare
Approach her, you ape with your tail on
Once you have her she'll always be there
So I work in that same beauty salon
I'm chained to the old masquerade
The lipstick, the shadow, the silicone
I follow my father's trade
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