They say 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 gonna have to pay her if you want to park here

Well mommy's little dancer is quite a little secret
Working on the streets now, never gonna keep it
It's quite an imposition and now she's only wishin
That she would have listened to the words they said Poor Taylor

She just wanders around, unaffected by
The winter winds here, she'll pretend that
She's somwhere else, so far and clear
About two thousand miles, from here

Well Peter Patrick pitter patters on the window
The sunny silhouette won't let him in
Poor old Pete's got nothing 'cause he's been falling
And somehow sunny knows just where he's been
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He thinks that singin on Sunday's 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 low

He just wanders around, unaffected by
The winter winds here, and he'll pretend that
He's somewhere else, so far and clear
About two thousand miles from here

Such a tough enchilada, filled up with nada
Givin what you gotta give to get a dollar bill
Used to be a limber chicken, times have been a ticking
Now she's finger lickin to the man
With the money in his pocket, flying in his rocket
Only stopping by on his way to a better world

If Taylor finds a better world, then Taylor's gonna run away