words by jason mraz & ariel quirolo

music by jason mraz



Well an old saying goes mind your manners mind your mother



And a man can find a lover who is tan and undercover



Well she might lies about her age, but lady I got no complaints







She can be as crazy and as foolish as she wants to be



Because her old school ways are practically technicalities and perfectly sane



I'm saying I ain't never seen a saint.







Well I met her at an old cop bar down in silverlake



Where we spoke about the give and we joked about the take



And when they asked for identification I knew hers probably was a fake







She's just another older lover undercover.







You're wearing that thin disguise. Don't apologize.



And you're birthday suit suits you.



Well it suits me too it's one hell of a costume



I can't find the zipper anywhere on your back



Perhaps it's attached to the breach of your ass-crack







(Burr it's cold in here. You keep it hot dear.)







with a sip of mexican coffee and some grapefruit juice



a glass of coke a glass of wine just to keep it loose



oh the things that you say and do, wow.



And the way that you move to the music



Like the who and the velvet underground old sounds



You like indie rock, spock rock, anything you've found



In the backseat of your downtown brown and bruised beat up bmw







Any melodramatic role is just a garment of the soul



I respect your nakedness and the way that you unfold



and the way your wiser stories are always told