It’s wrong to live wrong    I was thinking this
and wringing my hands    I wrung my hands

Wasn’t it right to live right    and to write
about the right life    rather than living wrong

and writing about the wrong life    Which is
righter which is wronger    The thing is

if you have the wrong life you don’t want
to tell    thinking always that somehow you

will right it    Righting and writing it’s a kind
of redress    a new dress I’ll put on when I

rewrite my life    I’ll run out and get it now
while there’s still time    a red dress for joy

a red dress for redress    and I’ll dress you
down as I walk out the door    You’ll ring

and ring but I won’t rush back    I won’t
write back    You’ll be right and I’ll be

wronged    and that’s what I’ll tell if I get
the time    but not to you    you won’t be told

You can read my redress in the papers
I’ll be out on the town in my red dress