She wears an urban turbannHer altimeter is goldnAnd when she kisses your lipsnShe makes you hungry and boldnnShe hangs around QuanticonShe always gasses her ownnBut just you watch out belownFor jungles, swamps, or atollsnnShe’s gonna drop younIt’ll be cutenNo parachutennThe boys are wet on the fieldnShe’s got a slicker for younHave you a dental recordnWhen your remains need a cluennShe’s gonna drop younIt’ll be cutenNo parachutennShe’s got you in a harnessnBut not the practical kindnA pack with chute and ripcordnShe’s not inclined to providennWhat does this bird mean to younNow is the time to decidenYou’re not attached by a stringnYou really must realizennShe’s gonna drop younIt’ll be cutenNo parachuten