| They say taylor was a good girl, never one to be late
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| Complain, express ideas in her brain
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| Working on the night shift, passing out the tickets
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| Youre gonna have to pay her if you want to park here
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| Well mommys little dancer has quite a little secret
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| Working on the streets now, never gonna keep it
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| Its quite an imposition and now shes only wishing
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| That she would have listened to the words they said
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| Poor taylor
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| She just wanders around, unaffected by
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| The winter winds and shell pretend that
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| Shes somewhere else, so far and clear
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| About two thousand miles from here
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| Peter patrick pitter patters on the window
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| But sunny silhouette won’t let him in
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| Poor old petes got nothing because hes been falling
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| Somehow sunny knows just where hes been
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| He thinks that singing on sunday is gonna save his soul
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| Now that saturday is gone
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| Sometimes he thinks that hes on his way
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| But i can see that his break lights are on
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| He just wanders around, unaffected by
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| The winter winds and hell pretend that
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| Hes somewhere else, so far and clear
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| About two thousand miles from here
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| Such a tough enchilada filled up with nada
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| Giving what she gotta give to get a dollar bill
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| Used to be a limber chicken, times a been a ticking
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| Nows shes finger licking to the man
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| With the money in his pocket flying in his rocket
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| Only stopping by on his way to a better world
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| If taylor finds a better world
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| Then taylor’s gonna run away |