| She could’ve been anything that she wanted
|
| Instead she chose to be nothing!
|
| So nothing flew from the East to the West Coast
|
| Became a friend! |
| She was a dancer!
|
| Became a harlet! |
| She was a black Donna queen!
|
| Music men wrote songs about her
|
| Some sad, some sweet, some said were very mean
|
| Rock music played loud and clear for her
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| Rock music took her youth and left her very dry
|
| She was used and abused by many men
|
| He’ll tell her why
|
| Tell her!
|
| Tell her!
|
| She could’ve been anything that she wanted
|
| She had bells from her head down to her toes
|
| Instead she choose to be nothing!
|
| So nothing flew from the West back to the East Coast
|
| She rendered her services easily!
|
| Because certain services were all she had to give
|
| And after the passing of a savior
|
| She went and tried everything she could to stay here
|
| A dark mask used to hide her morning face
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| A dark mask from her face upon her arms
|
| And when they told me that she had died
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| They didn’t have to tell me why or how she’d gone
|
| I knew!
|
| I knew!
|
| She came to the jungle from Milwaukee!
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| Steppin' high in her I. Miller Shoes!
|
| She was steppin'! |
| Oh, in her I. Miller Shoes
|
| She came to the jungle from Milwaukee!
|
| Steppin' low in her I. Miller Shoes!
|
| She was steppin'! |
| Oh, in her I. Miller shoes
|
| She came to the jungle from Milwaukee!
|
| She sat down in her I. Miller shoes!
|
| She was steppin'! |
| Oh, In her I. Miller shoes
|
| She was steppin'! |
| Oh, In her I. Miller shoes
|
| Steppin!
|
| She was steppin'! |
| Oh, In her I. Miller shoes |