Pottery - Lady Solinas Lyrics

Lady Solinas!

You took it out your handbag
And place it on his back, babe
You lost your script in writings
Oh, ain't that a real drag

So don't scrape your polish, girl
It came from Andy's paint
And by the way, he loves you, ah

So make a quick decision
A killer or a feminist
You know she was a queen, too
And a killer of your scene

So don't scrape your polish, girl
It came from Andy's paint
By the way, he loves you, ah

Lady Solinas, get on your feet
Feel sick and dirty
Your hands are nearly weak
Lady Solinas, what's in your head?
You killed Andy, avant garde is dead

Lady Solinas, get on your feet
Feel sick and dirty
Your hands are nearly weak
Lady Solinas, what's in your head?
You killed Andy, avant garde is dead, she said

Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive our trespasses
As we forgive those who trespass against us
And lead no into temptation
But deliver us from evil