I like it    I don't like it

She just wanders around unaffected by the winter winds, yeah



She pretends that she's somewhere else



So far and clear, two-thousand miles from here







Taylor was a good girl, never one to be late



Complain, express ideas in her brain



Working on the night shift passing out the tickets



You're going to have to pay her if you want to park here







Well mummy's little dancer is quite a little secret



She's working 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







Peter Patrick pitter patters on the window



But Sunny Silhouette won't let him in



Poor old Pete's a got a nothing cause he's been falling



And somehow Taylor knows just where he's been







He thinks that singin' on Sunday is 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



Taylor finds a better world



And Taylor's gonna run away