200 Years Old

I was sitting in a breakfast room in Allentown Pennsylvania
Six o'clock in the morning
Got up too early
It was a terrible mistake
Sittin' there face-to-face with a
Seventy-five cent glass of orange juice
About as big as my finger
And a bowl of horribly fore-shortened corn flakes
And I said to myself
This is the life

She's two hundred years old
So mean she couldn't grow no lips
She's two hundred years old
So mean she couldn't grow no lips
Boy, she'd be in trouble if she tried to grow a mustache

She's two hundred years old
Squatting down
And popping up
In front of the juke box
Like she had true religion
Boy
She's two hundred years old
Squattin' down
Poppin' up
Front o' the juke box
Just like she'd had true religion
Boy
Hoy hoy
It's two hundred years
Half of this, none of that
Was fifty
Oh squat, yeah, oh, now
She got religion now, boy
Oh she's two hundred years old
Oh she told me
She just
She just can't grow no lips
Squat
Down
So mean she
Can't grow no lips
Two hundred years old
Whaddya mean she can't grow no lips
Squattin' down
Poppin' up 'n down at the juke box
Ow
She got the true religion boy
Boy