Hey, Virginia Callahan. Remember Mrs. Joel's kid, Billy, from down the street? The greaser who took the piano lessons and had his shifty eye on you? Well, he just wrote a song about you. And you won't like it.
The song hangs tough, rocks hard, and deliberately echoes one of those "baby, let's make out" tunes from the 1950s, the ones where the guys were always trying to get the girls to go ... well, if not further than they wanted, then at least further than they thought they should. Billy...
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