Six o'clock on a Sunday morning, the Mission Man was getting hungry
I said I know an all-night Chinese joint, you drown your troubles in bok choy
Put his lips to my ear and grinned, said Baby, it's not that kind of need
Freshen up your lipstick, let me taste a little bit, and
share some of your, share some your

Deep red joy, pleasure to meet you, lay your kisses on me
I'm a city boy, it's the mark of Cain, babe you're just beyond me
But if you drop for me, I'll rise for you, get sticky as honey
Just let me taste a little bit.

Met the Mission Man in Berkeley, feet up in the hired limo
Took one look through the window and I knew I just had to have the boy.
Beckoned across the sleeping guitars, he rolled down the window, said climb on in
You know I like your black pyjamas, would you care to
share some of my, share some of my 

Cheap red joy, into the car, we're going into the City
Sitting duck, I'm sitting on my luck, he said you're sitting pretty
He passed me the bottle, hold it by the neck: gone. Aint it a pity?
He said drink it just a little bit.

Sometime between night and morning, parked his boots and folded his jacket
We got clean and we got dirty and the sky turned as red as a blushing boy.
Hand to hand and hand to mouth, eye to eye and belly to belly
He left me a note and a number to call
and the rest of the bottle of that old

Deep red joy, move like a flood, ring like a warning
Mission Man come up like the sun in the early morning
Rolling like a river deep in the hills, you can feel him burning
I said come back a little bit
come back a little bit...