taylor

they say taylor was a good girl, never want to be late. complain, express ideas in her brain. working on the full shift, passing out the hangers, you're gonna have to ask her if you want to change here. well mommy's little sweetheart is quite a little secret, smoking 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. she just wanders around, unaffected by the cold night chills, and she'll pretend that she's somewhere else, so far and clear. about two thousand miles from here. well peter patrick pitter patters on the window, but sadly taylor won't let him in. poor old pete's got nothing cause he's been falling, and somehow taylor knows just where he's been. he thinks that singing 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 on. such a tough enchilada, filled up with nothing, giving what you got to give to get a dollar bill. used to be a limber chicken, times have been a ticking, now she's finger licking to the man, with the shades & shoes, flying on his skateboard, only stopping by on his way to a better world. if taylor finds a better world, then taylor's gonna run away.