Drop my gloves into the stove
It's echoed out the grave
I fell in love with those electric lights
That drug me in the town so lateTo nimble, cunning, clever nights
I reel behind them deputized
To scrape the lens off Christian eyes
A Friday night girl, bracing for Sunday to callI only ever held one love
Her name was Marianne
She died having a child by her brother
He died because I murdered himShot him through his jelly eye
I won myself this wicked life
Now I thread the needle walks through mine
A Friday night girl, bracing for Sunday to callEmptied onto shifting sheets
Staring rosary holes in my ceiling
Waiting for my purpose to deliver
And reveal itself to me
But all I hear are subway trains
Bang against the bedrock lanesI'm a Friday night girl
Bracing for Sunday to call
Bracing for Sunday to call