She just wanders around unaffected by the winter winds, yeah
She pretends that she's somewhere else
So far and clear, two-thousand miles from here
Taylor was a good girl, never one to be late
Complain, express ideas in her brain
Working on the night shift passing out the tickets
You're going to have to pay her if you want to park here
Well mummy's little dancer is quite a little secret
She's working on the streets now, never gonna keep it
It's quite an imposition and now she's only wishing
That she would have listened to the words they said
Poor Taylor
Peter Patrick pitter patters on the window
But Sunny Silhouette won't let him in
Poor old Pete's a got a nothing cause he's been falling
And somehow Taylor knows just where he's been
He thinks that singin' on Sunday is gonna save his soul
Now that Saturday's gone
And sometimes he thinks that he's on his way
But I can see, that his brake-lights are on
Taylor finds a better world
And Taylor's gonna run away
