Mailbox

She yells through my mailbox and bangs at my door
She always wants money and she always wants more
She screams a name that isn't mine
And waits a moment and does it another time

The people in the street they call me by her name
I think it's funny so I don't complain

I'm in the city lots of people live there
What my name is they don't care
She talks about her husband and the police
She tells me she was beautiful now stained with grease
Stained with grease stained with grease