By: David Allan Coe



I MET HER IN ATLANTA

SHE WAS A-DANCING IN A CAFE

WITH A PRICE TAG ON HER BODY

AND A TOMBSTONE IN HER EYE

YOU COULD TELL SHE WAS NOT HAPPY

BY THE WAY SHE KEPT ON STARING

PAST THE OTHER SIDE OF NOWHERE

AT A MAN SHE'D LIKE TO TRY



AND THE MAKE-UP SHE HAD PAINTED

COULD NOT HIDE THE YOUTHFUL MOTIONS

OF HER BODY

FROM THE MUSIC OR THE CROWD

I STARED LIKE ALL OTHERS

WITH MY RIGHT HAND IN MY POCKET

WHILE SHE SHOWED US

EVERYTHING THE LAW ALLOWED



TWENTY BUCKS AN HOUR LATER

MY ONE-BEDROOM APARTMENT

I WAS FEELING WEAK

FROM ALL THE SEEDS I'D SOWN

SHE WAS SWEET, SHE WAS GENTLE

AS SHE INTRODUCED MY BODY

TO SOME PLEASURES

IT HAD NEVER EVER KNOWN



WHEN I WOKE UP IN THE MORNING

SHE WAS A-LAYING THERE BESIDE ME

LIKE A KITTEN

WITH HER FACE TURNED TO THE SUN

AND A LOOK OF SATISFACTION

ON HER LIPS THAT MADE ME WONDER

IF SHE EVER FELT ASHAMED

OF WHAT WE'D DONE



SO I LEFT HER IN ATLANTA

SHE WAS A-DANCING IN CAFE

WITH A PRICE TAG ON HER BODY

AND A TOMESTONE IN HER EYE

AND I GUESS SHE STILL AIN'T HAPPY

BY THE WAY SHE KEEPS ON STARING

PAST THE OTHER SIDE OF NOWHERE