High-Heeled Shoes - The Kingston Trio

High heel shoes, so sheik and elegant, tapping on the floor beneath the table

of the fancy restaurant

The maitre d' brings the phone to where she sits.

He puts it down beside her

daiquiri and walks away to greet another guest

Warm, red lips whispering «Good-bye.»

A fifty-dollar tip.

Dark glasses on her

eyes

High heel shoes step into her limousine.

A number on a napkin for the driver

it’s a place he’s never seen

A sea gull sits on a weather-beaten shack, a little fishing boat near by with «High Heels» written on the back

Ooo.

Ooo.

Ummm.

Um!

High heel shoes on the floor beside the bed.

The driver of the limo checks his

watch and lights another cigarette

The tide rolls in from out beyond the bay, she gets into her limousine,

turns around and slowly drives away

Cool, white hands hold a faded photograph of a little girl in high heel shoes

and a shy boy standing by a shack

The shadows fall on the private parking lot.

She walks across the pavement to

the ladder of the million dollar yacht

He turns and smiles.

He was worried and concerned

They sail off in the sunset, «High Heels» written on the stern