Overture

Beyond the fiction of the reality, there is the reality of the fiction
A thousand different pulp fictions
A myriad of old film-noirs
An odyssey of magazines, novels, chick-flicks, porn scripts
Movie after movie
Dirty playing cards and whispered stories in shady bars
With grown men crying over spilt whiskey
There's always a woman

I could feel her coming for miles
When she walked inside my office
When she walked inside my office
I knew I was
I knew, I knew I was
When she walked inside my office
I knew I was
I knew I was fucked

I could feel her coming for miles
When she walked inside my office
There's always a woman
Black hair running down her shoulders
Trenchcoat coaxing
Red lipstick to burn itself into your retina
Matching red high heels to rock you off your arm-chair into a frenzy
Golden brown eyes like a shot of heroin

All I can dream now
Golden brown
Her eyes were golden brown
When she walked inside my office
I turned around, she said