We’re closed for the night
all tucked in just you ‘n’ me
alone at last;
you with your tie and your shiny hair
and me in uncomfortable stockings

In the dark, with the lights off
who cares if they knock on the glass doors
we have nothing left to sell
except what we sell ourselves;
heated breath, exchanged, no receipts

Can they see us shedding the clothes
of mannequins? haha is that what they think?
Thru the window my skin is pale and if
I stand still enough perhaps
my porcelain skin will look to their eyes
innocent window dressing

You feel my radiant lust upon your chest
that I care not what they think
as I untie your tie and drop your drawers
and then the window dresser appears to be
doing the unspeakable with his porcelain companion
at closing time.