|Lyrics:||They say Taylor was a good girl, never one to be late|
complain, express ideas in her
Working on the night shift, passing out the tickets,
You're gonna have to pay her
if you want to park here.
Well mommy's little dancer is quite a little secret
Working on the streets now, never gonna keep it.
It's quite an imposition and now she's only
That she would have listened to the words they said...Poor Taylor.
wanders around, unaffected by,
the winter winds here, she'll pretend that
else, so far and clear
about two thousand miles, from here.
Well Peter Patrick
pitter patters on the window,
the sunny silhouette won't let him in.
Poor old Pete's got
nothing cuz he's been falling,
And somehow sunny knows just where he's been.
thinks that singin on Sunday's gonna save his soul,
now that Saturday's gone.
sometimes he thinks that he's on his way,
but i can see, that his brake lights are on.
He just wanders around, unaffected by,
the winter winds here, and he'll pretend
he's somewhere else, so far and clear,
about two thousand miles...from here
Such a tough enchilada, filled up with nada,
givin what you gotta give to get a dollar
Used to be a limber chicken, times have been a ticking,
now she's finger lickin to
With the money in his pocket, flying in his rocket,
only stopping by on his way
to a better world.
If Taylor finds a better world, then Taylor's gonna run away.