Baby Stick Around / Joe Jackson

I just grab a tape, any tape, out of Virginie’s desk and plug it into my walkman and I’m off down Bl. Exelmans, in my big box print Naf Naf shirt and my jeans jacket. This is the summer of 1984. I am out looking for dinner, scuffing along in my french franc loafers. I know Night and Day, but this is just taking me someplace else altogether. Look Sharp.