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 want to park here

Well, mommy's little dancer
is quite a little secret
Working on the streets now
never gonna keep it
It's quite an imposition
and now she's only wishin
That she would have listened
to the words they said
Poor Taylor

She just wanders around, unaffected by,
The winter winds here, 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
Cuz he's been falling
And somehow Taylor knows just where he's been

He thinks that singin on Sunday's
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

He just wanders around, unaffected by
The winter winds here, 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 you gotta give to get a dollar bill
Used to be a limber chicken
times have been a ticking
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 away