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​Chicken Fingers

This song is by Roger Chapman and appears on the album Hybrid And Lowdown (1990).

Well she looked like easy-money,
Sitting in the bank
When I asked her for some time she said
"Try another line"
I just turned away and shrank
She said "Now you ain't really happening"
Hm, that was counter-rap
"All you chicken-livered-lovers who go fooling round with others, you don't get away with that boys"

Let your fingers do the talking
Put away your mouth
If your only speed is fantasy
You can beat it - beat it now

Now she wore an easy halo, this quiet flame of old
Well she looked like Kathy Turner
But my ass was on a burner
With my love like on hold, hold it - hold it - hold it
Go sonny

Somethings I guess are fated, we met again by chance
We ate a small lasagne
Then we danced a sly cabana
This chicken sure learned how fast

Let your fingers do the talking
Put away your mouth
If your only speed is fantasy
You can beat it - beat it now

Beat it now

Written by:

Chapman-Simpson