YOUNG GIRL BLUES

Donovan





It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways

If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days

Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely

You are but a young girl working your way through the

phonies



Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading.

Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's

degrading.



The flowers on your stockings wilting away in the midnight

The book you are reading is someone's opinion of moonlight

Your skin is so white, you'd like maybe to go to bed soon

Just closing your eyes if you're to rise up before noon



High heels, car wheels, all the losers are groovin'

Your dream, strange scene, images are movin'



Your friends they are making a pop star or two every evening



You know that scene backwards, they can't see the patterns

they're weaving

Your friends they're all models but you soon got over that

one

You sit in your one room a little brought down in London



Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading.

Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's

degrading.



It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways

If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days

Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely

You are but a young girl working your way through the

phonies





Transcribed by Stephen Sander

steve_sander@cacdsp.com



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Stephen Sander

kms@inet.net

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