| She’d look beautiful in a tea towel
|
| But she’s dressed up to the nines
|
| She’s covered herself in make-up
|
| But she can’t make up her mind
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| She’s a damsel in distress
|
| She feels a damn fool in this dress
|
| She lives alone
|
| And I know how she feels
|
| She has the mind of Sharon Stone
|
| And the heart of Danielle Steel
|
| Spends hours in front of the bookcase
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| A beast with two paperbacks in bed
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| She’s read them all from go to woe
|
| And arranged them from A to Z
|
| And you can judge a book by it’s cover
|
| A kingdom for a horse, a condom for a lover
|
| She lives alone
|
| And I know how she feels
|
| She has the mind of Sharon Stone
|
| And the heart of Danielle Steel
|
| I understand
|
| She’s up in arms and down at heel
|
| But it’s getting out of hand
|
| She has the heart of Danielle Steel
|
| So take off your horn-rimmed rose-coloured glasses
|
| And shake out your shining hair again
|
| Behind every princess, in an ill-fitting pink dress
|
| There’s a lonely librarian |