A Bit of You

A bit of you's the only drug I must abuse A bit of you's the only substance I cannot refuse When I walk on spring Beneath the stench, a bit of you is all I smell Upon the shelf's a bit of you I ask, "They sell?" When I walk on spring 'Cause there ain't no style No, there ain't no style 'Cause there ain't no style And in fact, there is just one other problem You live up in Harlem Of course, I had no knowledge of this at the time That came après July on the Upper West Side Waiting for the fall When from the Battery on up to your front door From mother ship the rocket launching twister whores Would blow up it all 'Cause there ain't no style No, there ain't no style Well there's just no style And in fact, there is just one other problem I would have spared Harlem Affections sent straight to Chekhov Say you need me Don't you need me? Wait, I thought we were on Broadway No, my daddy said so "Still outside of Moscow" Affections sent straight to Chekhov Say you need me Don't you need me? Wait, I thought we were on Broadway No, my daddy said so "Still outside of Moscow" And so the days creep up to my big final show And not a word from you, an hour I must blow So I walk and see Upon the streets, a faded island press on eyes A big old pool of you's, zillions I realize And just one of me 'Cause there ain't no style No, there ain't no style There's just no style And in fact, there is just one other problem You've infected Harlem Guess I won't be waiting several hours Before nightfall for that A train Just the hiss of the dues band play