This is a great song. It's about life, people, and prostitution.
Lyrics formatted on 37 lines for your reading pleasure.
John.
--
They say Taylor was a good girl;
never one to be late, complain, express ideas in her brain.
Workin' on the night shift, passin' out the tickets.
You're gonna have to pay her if you want to park here.
Well mummy's little dancer is quite a little secret --
workin' on the streets now -- never gonna keep it.
It's quite an imposition and but now she's only wishin'
that she would have listened to the words they said.
Poor Taylor.
Well she just wonders around, unaffected by, the winter winds, yeah.
And she'll pretend that, well she's somewhere else;
so far and clear, about 2,000 miles.. from here.
Well Peter Patrick pitter-patters on the window;
but Sunny's silhouette won't let him in.
And poor old Pete's got nothin' 'cause he's been fallin',
and somehow Sunny knows just where he's been.
He 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 break lights aren't gone.
And he just wonders around, unaffected by, the winter winds, yeah.
And he'll pretend that, well he's somewhere else;
so far and clear, about 2,000 miles.. from here.
Such a tough enchilada filled up with nada,
givin' whatcha got to give to get a dollar bill.
Used to be a limber chick, but time's a been tickin'
now she's finger lickin' to the man with the money in his pockets --
flyin in his rocket --
only stoppin by on his way to a better world.
If Taylor finds a better world,
then Taylor's gunna run away.