Wig In A Box/Wicked Little Town

On nights like this

When the world's a bit amiss

And the lights go down across the trailer park

I get down, I feel had

feel on the verge of going mad

Then it's time to punch the clock

I put on some make-up

Turn on the tape deck

And put the wig back on my head

Suddenly I'm Miss Midwest Midnight checkout queen

Until I head home

And I put myself to bed

I look back on where I'm from

look at the woman I've become

And the strangest things seem suddenly routine

I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks

A gift wrapped wig still in the box

of towering velveteen

I put on some make-up

Some LaVern Baker

I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf

Suddenly I'm Miss Beehive 1963

Until I wake up and I turn back

You think that luck has left you there

But maybe there's nothing up in the sky but air

And there's no mystical design

no cosmic lover preassigned

There's nothing you can find

that can not be found

And if you've got no other choice

You know you can follow my voice

through the dark turns and noise

of this wicked little town

Some girls they got natural ease

They wear it any way they please

With their French flip curls and perfumed magazines

Wear it up, wear it down

This is the best way that I've found

To be the best you've ever seen

I put on some make-up

Turn on the eight-tack

I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf

Suddenly I'm this punk rock star of stage and screen

Until I wake up and I turn back to myself

I turn back to myself

I turn back to myself