the morning sun touched lightly on
the eyes of LUCY JORDAN
In a white suburban bedroom
in a white suburban TOWN
And she lay there "nearth the covers"
dreaming of a thousand lovers
till the world turned to ORANGE
And the room went spinning Round
At thre age of thirty SEVEN
She realized shed never ride
Through Paris in a sports CAR
With the warm wind in her HAIR
So she let the phone keep RINGING
And she sat there SOFTLEY singing
Little nusery rhymes she memorished
In her DADDYS easy chair
Her husband is off to work
And her KIDS are off to School
And there were oh so many ways
For HER to spend her DAYS
She could clean the house for HOURS
Or rearrange the FLOWERS
OR RUN NAKED through the shady street
SCREAMING all the WAY
AT THE AGE OF THIRTY SEVEN
SHE REALIZED she would never ride
