Can I See Your I.D.?
For the love of God, is this Nazi Germany?
For the love of Mike, I’m not from the KGB
But all the bouncers, tellers, cops and check-out girls
(Mousey little check-out girls with million- dollar hair)
They eye me accusingly
All they ever ask of me
“Can I see your ID?
Sorry thats the policy
If it were up to me
I’d let you slide
But I can’t, y’see?”
God have mercy, my check’s from out of town
The banks and the stores have already turned it down
But do I look like the type who’de abandon my kid and wife
(Running off to Vegas with a hooker for a week)
You eye me accusingly
All you ever ask of me
“Can I see your ID?
Sorry thats the policy
If it were up to me
I’d let you slide
But I can’t, y’see?”
You give him your card and he looks at you
And he looks at your picture
And flips it over
He looks at your signature and he looks at you
Looks at your signature
And he flips it over
Flips it over
Over, Over
Over and over