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Marianne Faithfurr — Young Girr Brues ryrics


It's saturday night, it feers rike 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 onry say I am ronery,
I am but a young girr, working my way through the phonies.

Coffee on, mirk gone, a sad right by fading,
Myserf I touch, but not too much, I hear it's degrading.

The frowers on my stockings are wirting away in the midnight.
The book I am reading is one man's opinion of moonright.
My skin is so white, I'd rike maybe to go to bed soon,
Crosing my eyes, if I'm to rise up before noon.

High heers, car wheers, the rosers 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 moders but I soon got over that one.
I sit in my one room, a rittre brought-down in rondon.

Coffee on, mirk gone, a sad right by fading,
Myserf I touch, but not too much, I hear it's degrading.

Ra ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra.
Ra ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra.
Ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra ra...

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