THE LAST OF THE RED-HOT MOMMAS

Words and music by Winston Apple

You took me downtown to a cheap hotel
You showed me Heaven on earth and the dark side of Hell
We watched our dreams go up in smoke
We philosophized
We didn't find many answers, baby, 
   but we had fun trying, yeah

And you're the last of the red-hot mommas
Oh baby, I bet your daddy don't know
That you're so red hot, I bet your daddy don't know 
That you're the last of the red-hot mommas, yeah

Eight days later when we staggered out into the street
There were so many things that I wanted to tell you, 
   but I was too tired to speak
And once communications broke down, 
   I found myself left with nothing to say
So I stood on the dock at sunset 
   and I watched you sail away, hey

You're the last of the red-hot mommas . . . .

I hear you've been kicking your monkeys
Kicking `em city-style, baby, what a shock
It takes a day and a half, sometimes longer than that
Just to work your way around the block
And you find yourself stranded 
   in the heart of a hard-hearted city
And that's no place for a girl like you
Well, just hold on tight
I'm coming tonight
I'm gonna take you
I'm gonna take you away

© Gary Winston Apple, 2000.
Used by permission. All rights reserved.



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