venerdì 30 aprile 2010

As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers...

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.

Marianne Faithfull "The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan"

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