A Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis

Hey Kinky, I'm pregnant and living on 9th Street

Right above a dirty bookstore on Euclid Avenue

And I stopped taking dope and I quit drinking whiskey

And my old man plays the trombone, works out at the track

He says that he loves me, though it's not his baby

He says that he'll raise him up like he would his own son

He gave me a ring that was worn by his mother

He takes me out dancing every Saturday night

Hey Kinky, I think about you every time I pass a filling station

On account of all the grease you used to wear in your hair

Still have that record, Little Anthony and The Imperials

Someone stole my record player, now how do you like that?

Hey Kinky, I almost went crazy after Mario got busted

I went back to Omaha to live with my folks

Everyone I used to know was either dead or in prison

So came back to Minneapolis, this time I think I'm gonna stay

Hey Kinky, I think I'm happy for the first time since my accident

I wish I had all the money that we used to spend on dope

I'd buy me a used car lot, wouldn't sell any of them

I'd just drive a different car everyday, depending on how I feel

Hey Kinky, for Christ sakes, if you wanna know the truth of it

I don't have a husband, he don't play the trombone

And I need to borrow money to pay this lawyer

And Kinky, hey, I'll be eligible for parole come Valentine's Day