|
It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways
|
If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days
|
Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely
|
You are but a young girl working your way through the
|
phonies
|
|
Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading.
|
Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's
|
degrading.
|
|
The flowers on your stockings wilting away in the midnight
|
The book you are reading is someone's opinion of moonlight
|
Your skin is so white, you'd like maybe to go to bed soon
|
Just closing your eyes if you're to rise up before noon
|
|
High heels, car wheels, all the losers are groovin'
|
Your dream, strange scene, images are movin'
|
|
Your friends they are making a pop star or two every evening
|
|
You know that scene backwards, they can't see the patterns
|
they're weaving
|
Your friends they're all models but you soon got over that
|
one
|
You sit in your one room a little brought down in London
|
|
Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading.
|
Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's
|
degrading.
|
|
It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways
|
If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days
|
Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely
|
You are but a young girl working your way through the
|
phonies
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Young Girl Blues
|
| Donovan |
