The Golden Girl
(Willia Van Houdt)
Born on a Sunday, she was the golden girl
Twinkling eyes, shiny curls
Much too valuable, so they kept her in a cage
Their own rage reflected on her
Tell her no secrets, tell her lies
Hide the world and close her eyes
Don’t be sorry, be amused
Keep her world turning
Will she ever know the truth
About her distorted youth
Will she ever realize
That her world is burning
On a Sunday, she was the golden girl
Twinkling eyes, shiny curls
Much too troublesome, so they kept her in a cage
It’s the age, it’s over soon
It’s driving her insane
This line between love and hate
And I tried to make them see
That it was them, not me
Born on a Sunday, she was the golden girl
Pale blue eyes, dirty curls
So much weaker now, she couldn’t give no more
Didn’t need to lock the door anymore
|
|
