Overture

Beyond the fiction of the reality, there is the reality of the fiction A thousand different pulp fictions A myriad of old film-noirs An odyssey of magazines, novels, chick-flicks, porn scripts Movie after movie Dirty playing cards and whispered stories in shady bars With grown men crying over spilt whiskey There's always a woman I could feel her coming for miles When she walked inside my office When she walked inside my office I knew I was I knew, I knew I was When she walked inside my office I knew I was I knew I was fucked I could feel her coming for miles When she walked inside my office There's always a woman Black hair running down her shoulders Trenchcoat coaxing Red lipstick to burn itself into your retina Matching red high heels to rock you off your arm-chair into a frenzy Golden brown eyes like a shot of heroin All I can dream now Golden brown Her eyes were golden brown When she walked inside my office I turned around, she said