They say, Taylor was a good girl

Never want to be late

Complain, express ideas in her brain

Working on the night shift

Passing out the tickets

You're gonna have to pay her, if you wanna park here

Well, mommy's little dancer has quite a little secret

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

She just wanders around, unaffected by

The winter winds yeah, and she'll pretend that

She's somewhere else, so far and clear

About two thousand miles from here

Well, Peter Patrick pitter-patters on the window

The sunny silhouette won't let him in

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

Somehow, Sunny knows just where he's been

He thinks that singing on Sunday is gonna save his soul

Now that Saturday's gone

Sometimes he thinks that he's on his way

But I can see that his brake lights are on

He just wanders around, unaffected by the

Winter winds, and he'll pretend that

He's somewhere else, so far and clear

About two thousand miles from here

Such a tough enchilada filled up with nada

Givin what ya gotta give to get a dollar bill

Used to be a lovely chicken times have been a tickin

Now she's finger lickin to the man, with the money in his pocket flying in his rocket only stopping by on his way to a better world

If Taylor finds a better world

Then Taylor's gonna run way