| She rides the midnight train to Newtown
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| Her long legs across the seat
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| And talks of lunch at Ansty’s Teahouse
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| Where the fashion lions feed
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| She’s running away, so tired of her small world
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| Then turning the page, is there anybody there
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| She cries over and over again
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| Could this ever be the life for me Long nights drinking her coffee esprit
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| Talk of lovers and swirl
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| She’s dying to play
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| She’s a magazine girl
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| Another perfumed Monday morning
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| Life without a care
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| Retail friends and gossip warnings
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| The weekend in her hair
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| She’s turning away, pretends she never needs much
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| But longing to say, doesn’t anybody care
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| She cries over and over again
|
| Could this ever be the life for me Long nights drinking her coffee Esprit
|
| Talk of lovers and swirl
|
| She’s dying to play
|
| She’s a magazine girl
|
| Vanity’s in Vogue
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| Mode and Style is all she needs to make the scene
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| A weekend with her movie queens
|
| Still-life inside her magazine
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| She’s running away, pretends she never needed much
|
| Still longing to say, doesn’t anybody care
|
| She cries over and over again
|
| Could this ever be the life for me Long nights drinking her coffee Esprit
|
| Talk of lovers and swirl
|
| She’s dying to play
|
| She is running away
|
| She is turning the page
|
| She’s a magazine girl |