| Lyrics: | It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways.
If I had any sense I'd maybe go away
for a few days.
Be that as it may, I can only say I am lonely,
I am but a young girl,
working my way through the phonies.
Coffee on, milk gone, a sad light by fading,
Myself
I touch, but not too much, I hear it's degrading.
The flowers on my stockings are wilting
away in the midnight.
The book I am reading is one man's opinion of moonlight.
My skin is so
white, I'd like maybe to go to bed soon,
Closing my eyes, if I'm to rise up before
noon.
High heels, car wheels, the losers are grooving.
My dream, strange seem images
are moving.
My friends, they are making a pop star or two every evening.
I know that
scene backwards, they can't see the patterns they're weaving.
My friends they are models but I
soon got over that one.
I sit in my one room, a little brought-down in London.
Coffee
on, milk gone, a sad light by fading,
Myself I touch, but not too much, I hear it's
degrading.
La la la la la, la la la la la la la la la.
La la la la la, la la la la la
la la la la.
La la la la, la la la la la ... |
