And what costume shall the poor girl wear
|
To all tomorrow's parties
|
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
|
To all tomorrow's parties
|
And where will she go and what she gonna do
|
When midnight comes around
|
She turn once more to Sunday's clown
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And cry behind the door
|
|
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
|
To all tomorrow's parties
|
Linens and silks of last night's gowns
|
To all tomorrow's parties
|
And what will she do with Thursday's rags
|
When Monday comes around?
|
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
|
And cry behind the door
|
|
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
|
To all tomorrow's parties
|
For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown
|
For whom none will go mourning
|
A blackened shroud a hand-me-down gown
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Of rags and silks; a costume
|
Fit for one who sits and cries
|
For all tomorrow's parties
|
|
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All Tomorrow's Parties
|
| Bryan Ferry |
