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 Chorus 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