Blues Before It Happens From “This Kind of Woman”

You know you’ve thought about this, you’ve been thinking all along.
You know you’ve thought about this, you’ve been thinking all along.
Singing songs about some other woman, that woman you’ll be doing wrong.

Come sit down beside me, pour yourself another drink.
You always end up beside me when you’ve had too much to drink,
edging closer to desire until you stop to think.

Your woman works all day and evening, so only you and I will know.
My man works all day and evening—he won’t ever know.
I got Billie Holiday on vinyl, All of You and Moanin’ Low.

You’re happy with your woman, and that’s why this feels so good.
You’re happy with your woman, and that’s why this feels so good.
We both know you shouldn’t want me and we don’t give a damn for should.

Feels like you’re already cheating just to play it in your head.
Is it cheating to think this, to let it play out in your head?
There’s no point in playing unless we’re playing in your bed.

I won’t make the first move—I have to leave that up to you.
I can’t make the first move, can’t leave him and can’t leave you.
I’ve got no better choices, letting you choose is choosing, too.

Try not to think of how you want me, where you want to put your hands
and I’ll stop thinking that I want you, want your mouth, want your hands,
and how your woman doesn’t understand you. And how you know I understand.

You make me think of autumn, warming skin and cooling air.
I bet you smell like autumn, bodies warm and cooling air.
Tell me lies. Take advantage. Make an offer. Make a dare.

We both know that it’ll happen if we give it a little time.
We both know it has to happen. I’ve got nothing if not time.
And if it’s slow in coming, I don’t think we’ll mind.

But you’ll taste like salt and whiskey and a little bit like him.
You’ll taste like salt and whiskey and just a little bit like him.
And I’ll be perfume and ashes moistened with a drop of gin.

If I take you for a lover, will I stop aching to the blues?
We both know you want a lover and I don’t need these useless blues.
We can make love or make excuses, but either way you lose.