Lyrics:

An anorexic young upstart struts down the runway,
She is so thin but more gaunt then lean.
She cut down on her baby fat the fun way, checked herself into a magazine

Like every preacher needs a sinner and the gangster likes the sub-machine,
Experts get paid by the beginners
And the bombshell needs her magazine.

Ventura police told me that I was weaving on my way down the hall to suite two-ten.
See, I get blown away so easily, all it takes me is a few puffs of wind.

When I go out to see my baby, I pick her up at ten-fifteen
And as I wait for all her clothes to get put on I sit down and check out a magazine.