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Don't Call The Cops
Published 1987 by Squeezemovan Music/BMI
Words and Music by Ponty Bone
She was doin' dirty dishes when she heard the sireen
Run to every window, latchin every window-screen
Heard a racket in the alley, to her knees she did drop...
It's just a stripped-down hot rod, tryin' to lose the cops.
I took two too many puffs of her one-puff stuff,
Feel like a fabulous t-bird, honey, tough enough.
And, when I squeeze that box, I'm the creme de la crop...
But I ain't lookin' for no showdown, Please Don't Call The Cops.
It was slick on funky Broadway when we started to slide,
Neon lights were flashin' as I looked her in the eyes.
I said "Don't hide it from me, baby, my key fits any lock...
We won't party too hearty, Please Don't Call The Cops."
We snuck into the pool in our birthday suits,
Underneath the moon, angel looked too cute.
Then she heard a distant juke-box, jump up and start to rock...
Mercy, Mister Percy, Please Don't Call The Cops.
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