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Little Arabella, she's always out of her head. |
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She lives in a daydream, she never understands what she said. |
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She carries a flower, long after everyone said it's dead. |
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And if you see her, you'll never believe, her head. |
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Little Arabella, she giggles away into bed. |
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A skirt around her ankles, smoke comin' out of her head. |
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She wakes in the morning, looks and there's nobody in her bed. |
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And if you meet her, you'll never believe, her head. |
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Talks in riddles, talks in rhymes. |
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She reads the stars and looks for signs. |
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She is a problem of the times. |
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I'm rather glad she isn't mine. |
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Little Arabella, she giggles away into bed. |
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A skirt around her ankles, smoke comin' out of her head. |
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She wakes in the morning, looks and there's nobody to be found. |
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And if you meet her, you're sure to be, her next ground. |
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Arabella, that's Arabella. |
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Arabella out of her head. |
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Arabella out of her head. |
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Arabella out of her head. |
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Arabella out of her head. |
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Have you ever met a bird, quite like little Arabella? |
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Course you have, she's sitting right next to you. |
