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Jack Johnson Miscellaneous Poor Taylor She just wanders around unaffected by the winter winds, yeah She pretends that she's somewhere else So far and clear, two-thousand miles from here Taylor was a good girl, never one to be late Complain, express ideas in her brain Working on the night shift passing out the tickets You're going to have to pay her if you want to park here Well mummy's little dancer is quite a little secret She's working on the streets now, never gonna keep it It's quite an imposition and now she's only wishing That she would have listened to the words they said Poor Taylor Peter Patrick pitter patters on the window But Sunny Silhouette won't let him in Poor old Pete's a got a nothing cause he's been falling And somehow Taylor knows just where he's been He thinks that singin' on Sunday is gonna save his soul Now that Saturday's gone And sometimes he thinks that he's on his way But I can see, that his brake-lights are on Taylor finds a better world And Taylor's gonna run away |
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