Well, it was down on Taft that i went to the place
Where i had to return Mari's leather and lace
i opened the door and she was there on the floor
lying on a deep vermilion rug
I walked right past her and i never said a word
the windows were open, it was August the 3rd.
I took her tea pot and i boiled it up hot
and joined her on a deep vermilion rug
She was eating cracked wheat dipped in oil and herbs
Her fingers made a figure eight and she never said a word
she shifted on her hips, and as she brought it to her lips
a drop hit her deep vermilion rug
A breeze blew in from the street and it rustled her drapes
it carried the sent of crape Myrtle and grapes
There ain't much to say when a while away a day
sitting on a deep vermilion rug
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