Young Girl Blues testo
It’s Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways.
If you had any sense, you’d maybe go way for a few days.
Be that as it may, you can’t only say you are lonely.
You are but a young girl working your way through the phonies.
Café on, milk gone,
Such a sad light unfading.
Yourself you touch, but not too much,
You hear it’s degrading.
The flowers on your stockings, wilting away in the midnight.
The book you are reading is one man’s opinion of moonlight.
Your skin is so white, you’d like maybe to go to bed soon.
Just closing your eyes, if you’re to rise up before noon.
High heels, car wheels,
All the losers are groovin’
Your dream, strange scene,
Images are movin’.
Your friends, they are making a popstar or two every evening.
You know that scene backwards, they can’t see the patterns they’re weaving.
Your friends, they are models, but you soon got over that one.
You sit in your one room, a little brought down in London.
Café on, milk gone,
Such a sad light unfading.
Yourself you touch, but not too much,
You’ve heard it’s degrading.
It’s Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways.
If you had any sense, you’d maybe go way for a few days.
Be that as it may, you can’t only say you are lonely,
You are but a young girl and you’re working your way through the phonies.
Ascolta Young Girl Blues - Donovan
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