Living On the Installment Plan

She pays all her bills, and mostly on time, Spending her dollars while earning mere dimes. She's waiting on tables at a beer joint in town Where their interest is up, but her bottom line's down.

She owes money here, somebody else there;
Trying to stay even with pennies to spare.
It's not much of a living; it's the best that she can.
She's doing her living on the installment plan.

There's little to give; there's little to take.
The work is all real; the money, near fake.
What else can she hope for? Can she find a good man?
She's doing her living on the installment plan.

The last call is poured, the lights turned down low,
One cowboy remains, the music is slow.
He drains the last drop of his flat, luke-warm beer,
Puts ten on the table; "Let's get outta here."

She considers his offer, ponders the chance
Of taking him up for tonight's last-call dance.
They walk out the door, her purse in her hand,
She's doing her loving on the installment plan.

There's little to give; there's little to take.
The passion is real; the love is a fake.
What else can she hope for, or find in a man?
She's doing her loving on the installment plan.

Oh, she's living and loving on the installment plan.