The ballad of Lucy Jordan

(x3) The morning sun touched gently on The eyes of Lucy Jordan In a white suburban bedroom In a white suburban town. As she lay there 'neath the covers Dreaming of a thousand lovers Till the world turned to orange And the room went spinning round. At the age of thirty-seven She realized she'd never ride Through Paris in a sports car With the worm wind in her hair. So she let the phone keep ringing As she sat there softly singing The nursery rhymes she'd memorize In her daddy's easy chair. Her husband is off to work And the kids are off to school And there were oh so many ways For her to spend a day. She could clean the house for hours Or re-arrange the flowers Or make it through the shady stream Screaming all the way. At the age of thirty-seven She realized she'd never ride Through Paris in a sports car With the worm wind in her hair. So she let the phone keep ringing As she sat there softly singing The nursery rhymes she'd memorize In her daddy's easy chair. The evening sun touched gently on The eyes of Lucy Jordan On the roof top where she climbed When all the laughter grew too loud. And she bowed and cursed to the man Who reached out ... off to her his hands And led her down to a long white car That waited, past the crowd. At the age of thirty-seven She knew that she'd found heaven As she rode along through Paris With the worm wind in her hair...