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The mornin' sun touched lightly on
The eyes of Lucy Jordan
In her white suburban bedroom
In her white suburban town
As she lay there, 'neath the covers
Dreamin' of a thousand lovers
'Til the world turned to orange
And the room went spinnin' around
At the age of 37
She realized she never ride
Through Paris in a sportscar
With the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing and
She sat there softly singin'
Little nursery rhymes she memorised
In her daddy's easy chair
Her husband was off to work and
The kids were off to school
And there are, oh so many ways
For her to spend the day
She could clean the house for hours or
Rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street
Screamin' all the way
At the age of 37
She realized she never ride
Through Paris in a sportscar
With the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing and
She sat there softly singin'
Pretty nursery rhymes she memorised
In her daddy's easy chair
The evenin' sun touched gently on
The eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the rooftop where she climbed when
The laughter grew too loud
She bowed and curtseyed to the man
Who reached and offered her his hand
And he led her down to the long white car
That waited past the crowd
At the age of 37
She knew she'd found forever rest
She rode along through Paris with
The warm wind in her hair
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