Dressed to Kill
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She's dressed to kill
She's meeting someone
In the bar and grill of the Biltmore Hotel
She's swinging her hips
She has her hat on
And by the smile on her lips
She's pleased, you can tell
They're playing live jazz music
It makes her feel like a dame
She's putting on some lipstick
Bright and red, her mouth aflame
No rules to that game
Old man found out
She's been out and about
Now he's waiting for her
Just around the corner
He fingers his gun
His tie is undone
Each step of the belle
Is closer to hell
They're playing live jazz music
It makes her feel like a dame
She's putting on some lipstick
Bright and red, her mouth aflame
No rules to that game
As she stepped off the stair
On the soulful air
The man from Bel Air
Ended her affair
They played live jazz music
It made her feel like a dame
The blood on her lips so slick
Bright and red, a crying shame
Oh, oh, oh, oh
They're playing live jazz music
No rules to that game
No rules to that game
No, no, no, no, no
No rules to that game