The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan

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
 'Til the world turned to orange
 And the room went spinning 'round
 At the age of 37
 She realised 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 memorised
 From her daddy's easy chair
 Her husband, he was 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 37
 She realised 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 memorised
 In her daddy's easy chair
 The evening sun touched gently
 On the eyes of Lucy Jordan
 On the rooftop 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 led her down to the long white car
 That waited past the crowd
 At the age of 37
 She had finally found her heaven
 As they rode along through Paris
 With the warm wind in her hair