Calling All Bored Housewives

I'm tired of being the man of whom
No other men get jealous,
With whom it's safe to leave your wife alone.
I have been a man of honour.
I've been ethically jealous.
But men of honour find themselves alone

Calling all bored housewives, there's a new dog on the prowl.
I'm creeping round behind your men to the song of the midnight owl.
Calling all suburban girls and their worried mothers, too.
Mighty Quinn's a pansy, girl, 'cause I'm coming after you.

Drifting round suburbia, I move from house to house.
Knocking on the kitchen doors, as quiet as a mouse.
I'm flicking through my little black book and filling in the names.
Forget about your bingo, baby, we'll be playing different games.

'Cause I'm tired of being a good boy
And I'm tired of being a saint.
I'm tried of people thinking
I am something that I ain't.
I'm gonna be a bird-dog,
I have tried my hand too long.
I'm getting down to business, honey,
I'll be banging on your gong.

I'm gonna sell my compact and I'm gonna buy a Porsche,
Fitted with reclining seats - CD stereo of course.
I'll cruise along the avenues, my elbow in the breeze.
Drive you to the green belt, baby, and you know I'm gonna please.

'Cause I'm tired of being the man of whom
No other men get jealous,
With whom it's safe to leave your wife alone.
I have been a man of honour.
I've been ethically jealous.
But men of honour find themselves alone
But men of honour find themselves alone
But men of honour find themselves alone

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