I choose my friends only far too wellnAnd I'm up on the pavementnAnd they're all down in the cellarnWith their government grants and my I.Q.nThey brought me down to size, academia bluesnnLouise is a girl, I know her wellnShe's up on the pavementnYeah, she's a weathergirlnAnd I'm staying up here so I may be undonenShe's inappropriate, but then she's much more funnnAnd when she smiles my waynMy eyes go out in vainnShe's got perfect skinnnShame on you, you've got no sense of gracenShame on me, ah, just in casenI might come to a conclusionnOther than that which is absolutely necessarynAnd that's perfect skinnnLouise is the girl with the perfect skinnShe says turn on the light, otherwise it can't be seennShe's got cheekbones like geometry and eyes like sinnAnd she's sexually enlightened by cosmopolitannnAnd when she smiles my waynMy eyes go out in vainnFor her perfect skinnYeah, that's perfect skinnnShe takes me down into the basement to look at her slides nOf her family life, pretty weird at timesnAt the age of ten she looked like Greta GarbonAnd I loved her then but how was she to know thatnnWhen she smiles my waynMy eyes go out in vainnShe's got perfect skinnnUp eight flights of stairs to a basement flatnPretty confused, huh, being shipped around like thatnSeems we climbed so high now we're down so lownStrikes me the moral of this song must be there never has been one