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
