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FShe said she was a danceCr. IDmf I believed it, it was myBb busines
FShe surely knew a thing or tCwo about contrDmol.
FNext to the bar we hit the samoCvar.
DmShe almost slipped right tBbhrough my fingers.
FIt was snowing outsiCde and in her Dmsoul.
FWell, maybe you're a danCcer,Dm and maybe I'm the King ofBb Old Siam.
FI thought it through... bestC to let the illusion Dmroll.
FI wouldn't say I've never heard that tale beforCe,
Dmmy frozen little señBborita,
but if your drFeam is good, why not share Cit when the nights are cDmold?
GHey Moscow, what's your story? LCady, take your time, don't hurDry.
GMaybe a student of the agricDultural plaCn.
GHey Moscow, what's your name? If you dCon't want to say, don't worDry.
GIt would probably be haDrd for me to make it scaCn.
With her phrase book in her silk soft hand
she spoke in riddles while the vodka listened.
I said, ``Let me look up love, if I might be so bold.''
She was the nearest thing to Rock and Roll
that side of the velvet curtain
that separates eastern steel from western gold.
Hey Miss Moscow, what's your story?
You needn't speak aloud, just whisper.
Am I just the closest thing to an Englishman?
You've seen me in your magazines, or maybe on state television.
I'm your Pepsi-Cola, but you won't take me out the can.
She said she was a dancer --- so she did.
She said she was a dancer. If I believed it, it was my business.
It felt like a merry dance that I was being led.
So I stole one kiss. It was a near miss.
She looked at me like I was Jack the Ripper.
She leaned in close. ``Goodnight,'' was all she said.
So I took myself off to bed.
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