The Ballad of
Lucy Jordan Marianne
Faithfull - Broken English - 1979
The
morning sun touched lightly on,
The eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white, suburban bedroom,
In a white, suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers,
Dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned 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
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing,
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chair
Her
husband, he's off to work,
And the kids were off to school
And there were, 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,
Screaming all the way
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
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing,
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chair
The
evening sun touched gently on,
The eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top 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 he led her down to the long, white car,
That waited past 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
