We met the gin queen
She was in a roadside bar
I think her name is Rita
I don't remember very well
I only know that we didn't meet her again see
He tried to take me upstairs
He had to hang on the stairs
My drunkenness was around my neck
We were celebrating something
Don't ask me what
Only he couldn't stand up
And above
A wooden bed and a mattress underneath
A spittoon and the heat
Soaking everything the bed of sweat
In the morning I woke up
With a hangover from three
Something confused and sticky I took a shower
She was no longer there< br/>But he left some roses
In an empty bottle of M. G
Because Rita, Rita is the queen of gin
She looks at you with a certain sadness
And I'm sure I won't see her again
No, no, no

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS