Driving down the boulevard on thursday afternoon A german shepherd's yappin' like a saturday cartoon. Saw you at the record store posing for the press, Smiling like a buddah in a purple minidress. You can't talk my talk You can't walk my walk You can't feel my pain You don't know my name You're dancing like a diplomat in bruno magli shoes I'm living at the laundramat and trying to stay amused A silver dollar in your mouth and an apple in your hand And your throwing me an anchor as i swim to viet nam. It might be jimmy hoffa, it might be jesus christ Emperor of millions with a bowl of dirty rice. Know that he's deceitful, know he can be sly Damn sure know he's tricky and know the reason why.