Текст пісні
This is called, "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan"
The morning sun touched gently on
The eyes of Lucy Jordon
In her white suburban bedroom
In her white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers
Dreaming of a thousand lovers
'Til the world turned to orange
And the room went spinning round
At the age of 37
She realised she'd never ride
Through Paris in a sports car
With the warm wind in her hair
And she let the phone keep ringing
As she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised
In her daddy's easy chair
And her husband, he was off to work
And the kids were off to school
And there were, oh, so many ways
For her to spend her day
She could clean the house for hours
Or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked down the shady street
Screaming all the way
At the age of 37
She realised she'd never ride
Through Paris in a sports car
With the warm wind in her hair
She let that phone keep ringing
As she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised
In her daddy's easy chair (oh, yeah)
And the evening sun set lightly on
The eyes of Lucy Jordon
On the rooftop where she'd climbed
When all the laughter grew too loud, yes
And she bowed and curtsied to the man
Who reached and offered her his hand
And led her down to the long white car
That waited past the crowd
Yes, at the age of 37
She knew she'd found forever
As they rode along through Paris
She got the warm wind in her hair
Oh, she rode, da-da-da-hmm, yeah
Yeah, she rode, rode, rode, rode, rode, rode, rode
Yeah, yeah, yeah
She got the wind in her hair
She got the wind in her hair
Yeah, yeah
She got the wind in her hair
She got the wind in her hair
And the morning sun touched gently on
The eyes of Lucy Jordon, oh
Thank you