Wig In A BoxWicked 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