illegitimate children

she's getting' hammered, on alabama slammers, three drinks ago, no, he wouldn't stand a chance, he's sipping' whiskey, feelin' confident and frisky, writes 'slow hand' on a twenty, and slips it to the band, by the end of the first verse they're on the floor, by the end of the song they're out the door, spirits are up inhibitions are down, same story's unfolding all over town, from the barroom to the bedroom, the path's weathered and worn, this is how illegitimate children are born, so it's his place or hers, whichover comes first, they're all the way to second base, in the back of the cab, it's hard to resist that liquored up lust, and it's easy to think it might be love. when, strangers and slow songs, barstools and backeast, lead to bottles and babies, ask cabbies and barkeeps.when, this is how illegitimate children are born