Somebody somewhere must pay
Not you, you just walk away
To the foot of her stairs
She at the top with her head in the clouds

And was she easily lead?
Well, can you tell me that you were not
You unwashed and undressed
She with her head full of your cigarettes

She is, oh
Such a pretty one
Wrapped up in needlecord and coincidence
And you don't know what to want
Until it's gone, gone, gone
Pretty gone

Somebody somewhere must pay
Somebody else will confess all your sins
You'll be saved
Then you'll step on that face
She will laugh she will kiss, yes, and tell

She is gone
She is pretty gone
She is under your thumb, oh you little man
But you don't know what you want
Until she's gone, gone, gone

Pretty dress
Full of nothingness to confess
She is nothing less
She was halfway to holiness when you said

Won't you put on your dress
And come down to Magazine Avenue?
Won't you put on your dress
And come down?