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