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Red Hot In Black

Rod Stewart

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Red Hot In Black

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I met her in a little French cafeLegs like a young giraffeShe was sitting reading BaudelaireNot exactly working classShe had a studio in St. MichelCrucifix around her waistChe Guevara all over the wallShe can't stand the sun on her faceHey boys, what a lookStop a train at fifty feetMatching hair, matching clothes and eyesKinda like a tiger in heatRed hot in blackRed hot in blackRevolution running through her veinsA radical from head to toeThe only record that she ever playedWas " just like a rolling stone"We started talking by the candlelightHer lips get closer to mineWe started dancing all around the roomHelped by a bottle of wineHey boys, mysteryDidn't even know her nameOne night in Paris, with a girl like thatNever going home againRed hot in blackRed hot in blackOh my, when I woke upShe'd already gone out to her workMy head was aching and my back was scratchedI've never, never, never known a night like thatTook a walk along the avenueSo in love and so confusedMy plane was leaving in half an hourWhat would you have done in my shoes?Hey boys, so you seeCouldn't get her outa my headMy regards to the folks back homeGonna spend some time with redRed hot in blackRed hot in black
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