Ballad Of Lucy Jordon

The morning sun touched lightly 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

Till the world turn to orange and the room went spinning round

At the age of thirty-seven she realized she'd never ride

Through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair

And she left that phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing

Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorize in her daddy's easy chair

Her husband was off to work and the kids were off to school

There were also many ways for her to spend the 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 thirty-seven...

The evening touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordon

On the rooftop where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud

And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand

And took her down to the long white car that waited pass the crowd

At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever

As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair

With the wind in her hair with the wind in her hair