She’s a pin-up doll baby
A regular flashing tasty
Her passion for fashion, relentlessly batting
Those lashes
Those lashes
Can’t get enough practice

And who’s staring at this, from flats down below?
The wanting
The wanting
There’s nothing to know, but
up, and up, and up,
Her nose tilting slow
An arch in her back, some tape or a tack
Your own private show

There’s nothing to know
There’s nothing to know

She’s a pin-up doll baby
So tall and aglow
So high, far from reach, on the top of the shelf
Not a word, nor an image, could ever hope to dispel or perhaps even breach what was golden to sell

And sell, and sell, and sell
it all, it all, it all

Oh, She’s a pin-up doll, waiting
For eyes, stuck on gazing
For desire, and the grazing for life from her skin
pushing in,
pushing in,
pin after pin after pin after pin
hole after hole through her delicate skin

You win baby
You win

So set her up high
slowly,
nice and tall

Doesn’t matter if she slips
Doesn’t matter if she falls

The words were dead at her lips
It’s true
After all,
She’s pin-up doll baby
She’s nothing at all