Cinnamon, he doesn't know what he wants
A mannish-boy that worships all he hears
And his mama only gave him two good ears
It don't matter how exquisite the soul is
Don't matter how good it looks
It don't matter how exquisite the soul is
Don't matter how good it looks
A son of a Cossack with a stick in his hand
You blushing fool don't love him as much as you do
And boo-hoo his dad only gave him 5 years
Before he walked out down the flight of their front steps
Took a seat in his pink Cadillac
A cigarette between quivering finger tips
Ash falls as his boy yells, "come back!"
Glory be you're so naïve
To think that
Clever hands can't block your way
I don't care what Candy said
“He's as steady as a sailor”
Just forget it
the gentleman wavered
Don't you get that
incessant nature
comes round again
Cinnamon, he threw a pillow at your head
With an unblinding blow it toppled all he told ya
Now you're forced to put those great big eyes to work
See, it don't matter how exquisite the soul is
Don't matter how good it looks
It don't matter how exquisite the soul is
Don't matter how good it looks