Sun sets on the Fairfax of Johnny's dream,
He's seen the right and the left side; he wants in between,
She traded in her high heels for bobby socks and books,
She pulls black and white at the Kentucky Fried.

She can sell the shell.

Truth is the money when you take a look,
You could touch the cover, you could make it with the book,
She's hiding something between the lines,
Reaching for my pocket, and the pants of a friend of mine.

She can sell the shell,
She can,
She can sell the shell.

Middle of the fiddle is the place that you could be,
Give up the dollar; I'm your helper for a fee,
I've done the lowly, priced it so they could afford,
And I've done the holy, in the name of the Lord.

She can sell the shell,
She can sell the shell.