They say 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 gonna have to pay her if you want to park hereWell 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 wishin'
That she would have listened to the words they said
Poor TaylorShe just wanders around, unaffected by,
The winter winds here, she'll pretend that
She's somewhere else, so far and clear
About two thousand miles, from hereWell Peter Patrick pitter patters on the window,
The sunny silhouette won't let him in
And poor old Pete's got nothing 'cause he's been falling
And somehow sunny knows just where he's beenHe thinks that singin' on Sunday's 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 onHe just wanders around, unaffected by,
The winter winds here, and he'll pretend that
He's somewhere else, so far and clear,
About two thousand miles from hereSuch a tough enchilada, filled up with nada
Givin' what you gotta give to get a dollar bill
Used to be a limber chicken, times have been a ticking
Now she's finger lickin' to the man
With the money in his pocket, flying in his rocket
And only stopping by on his way to a better worldIf Taylor finds a better world
Then Taylor's gonna run away
Songwriters
JACK HODY JOHNSONPublished by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.