She’s left the hill for a high rise
The upper crust for the lower east side
Mount Olympus for Manhattan
The heat for the cold
But her prerogative’s still her privilege
Now that she has fled the fold
And despite the bank roll being pulled
She can not be cajoled
Silver for gold

She’s burnt her elevators
She’ll never get back up
On top of the sugar hill
With the cream of the crop
But she digs it down in slum land
With the glitter and the mold
Hanging out at Max’s
Where the dime store tales are told
Silver for gold

From the shores of California
To the filthy Hudson docks
Permanently on west coast time
But who’s watching clocks?
From the green of Santa Barbara
To the gray of Union Square
She never baths below her neck
Now there’s silver in her hair

She’s traded the trail for the catwalk
Prairie grass for the grimy street
Still she always rides in limousines
And leaves diamonds on the seat
Now she’s rolling down past Madison
Where the dreams of greed are sold
Inspiring all the artists
To try and break the mold

But that ‘It Girl’ thing is getting old

Silver for gold
Silver for gold
Silver for gold
Silver for gold