Lyrics:

Jenny takes her clothes off in succession,
While her husband rides a bumper in the President's procession.
She's sees him on the screen as she looks up from giving head.
When he's had enough of that her lover throws her on the bed
to teach her she's alive and suddenly he's dead.
Turn up the TV. No one listening will suspect,
even your mother won't detect it,
no your father won't know.
they think that I've got no respect
but everything means less than zero.
Hey, ooh hey, hey, ooh hey.

Calling Mister Oswald, calling anyone at the scene,
If you were taking home movies there's a chance you might have seen him.
They've got a thousand variations, every witness in a file.
Jenny puts on some coffee and she comes back with a smile.
She says, "I hear that South America is coming into style."

chorus

A pistol was still smoking, a man lay on the floor.
Mister Oswald thought he had an understanding with the law.
She's got rubies on her fingers, Jenny turns and looks away.
Her mind upon a basement out of the USA.
She says, "Let's talk about the future now we've put the past away."