I've got two, and more to show,
I was dreaming of a mobile that couldn't be mine,
Not without lyin'.
Was I feelin' kind a silly when I stepped in soakin' beer down the
Cola machine.
Oh, stayin' seventeen.
Well she claimed she was a killer,
And she owned a floodlit villa a little aways from the highway.
She was tall, thin ans tarty and she drove a Maserati faster than
Sound,
I was heaven bound,
Although I must have looked a creep
In my Army surplus jeep.
Was I being to bold
Before the night could get old? No, no, no, no.
(She proved me so wrong.)
Oh the Itlaian girls sometimes hold their religious habits in front of
Your eyes,
Just to get you tied.
Ah., but not my little Bella 'cause I did not have to tell
Her I'd rather you go with the morning sun, she made me so tired.
She took me way, way, away down yonder,
Till I was gone with the morning sun on my back.
Wanna get on back there soon as I can.
Take me there,
And I miss the girl so bad.
Writer(s): Rod Stewart, Ronald David Wood
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