I learned the truth at seventeen | |
That love was meant for beauty queens | |
And high school girls with clear-skinned smiles | |
Who married young and then retired | |
The valentines I never knew | |
The Friday night charades of youth | |
Were spent on one more beautify | |
At seventeen I learned the truth | |
And those of us with ravaged faces | |
Lacking in the social graces | |
Desp'rately remained at home | |
Inventing lovers on the phone | |
Ian Janis | |
Who called to say "Come dance with me" | |
And murmered vague obscenities | |
It isn't all it seems at seventeen | |
A brown eyed girl in hand-me-downs | |
Whose name I never could pronounce | |
Said, "Pity, please, the ones who serve | |
They only get what they deserve. | |
The rich relationed hometown queen | |
Marries into what she needs | |
A guarantee of company | |
And haven for the elderly" | |
Remember those who win the game | |
Lose the love they sought to gain | |
In debentures of quality | |
And dubious integrity | |
In dull surprise when payment due | |
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen | |
To those of us who knew the pain | |
Of valentines that never came | |
And those whose names were never called | |
When choosing sides for basketball | |
It was long ago and far away | |
The world was younger than today | |
And dreams were all they gave for free | |
To ugly ducking girls like me | |
We all play the game and when we dare | |
To cheat ourselves at solitaire | |
Inventing lovers on the phone | |
Repenting other lives unknown | |
That call and say, "Come dance with me" | |
And murmur vague obscenities | |
At ugly girls like me at seventeen |
I learned the truth at seventeen | |
That love was meant for beauty queens | |
And high school girls with clearskinned smiles | |
Who married young and then retired | |
The valentines I never knew | |
The Friday night charades of youth | |
Were spent on one more beautify | |
At seventeen I learned the truth | |
And those of us with ravaged faces | |
Lacking in the social graces | |
Desp' rately remained at home | |
Inventing lovers on the phone | |
Ian Janis | |
Who called to say " Come dance with me" | |
And murmered vague obscenities | |
It isn' t all it seems at seventeen | |
A brown eyed girl in handmedowns | |
Whose name I never could pronounce | |
Said, " Pity, please, the ones who serve | |
They only get what they deserve. | |
The rich relationed hometown queen | |
Marries into what she needs | |
A guarantee of company | |
And haven for the elderly" | |
Remember those who win the game | |
Lose the love they sought to gain | |
In debentures of quality | |
And dubious integrity | |
In dull surprise when payment due | |
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen | |
To those of us who knew the pain | |
Of valentines that never came | |
And those whose names were never called | |
When choosing sides for basketball | |
It was long ago and far away | |
The world was younger than today | |
And dreams were all they gave for free | |
To ugly ducking girls like me | |
We all play the game and when we dare | |
To cheat ourselves at solitaire | |
Inventing lovers on the phone | |
Repenting other lives unknown | |
That call and say, " Come dance with me" | |
And murmur vague obscenities | |
At ugly girls like me at seventeen |
I learned the truth at seventeen | |
That love was meant for beauty queens | |
And high school girls with clearskinned smiles | |
Who married young and then retired | |
The valentines I never knew | |
The Friday night charades of youth | |
Were spent on one more beautify | |
At seventeen I learned the truth | |
And those of us with ravaged faces | |
Lacking in the social graces | |
Desp' rately remained at home | |
Inventing lovers on the phone | |
Ian Janis | |
Who called to say " Come dance with me" | |
And murmered vague obscenities | |
It isn' t all it seems at seventeen | |
A brown eyed girl in handmedowns | |
Whose name I never could pronounce | |
Said, " Pity, please, the ones who serve | |
They only get what they deserve. | |
The rich relationed hometown queen | |
Marries into what she needs | |
A guarantee of company | |
And haven for the elderly" | |
Remember those who win the game | |
Lose the love they sought to gain | |
In debentures of quality | |
And dubious integrity | |
In dull surprise when payment due | |
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen | |
To those of us who knew the pain | |
Of valentines that never came | |
And those whose names were never called | |
When choosing sides for basketball | |
It was long ago and far away | |
The world was younger than today | |
And dreams were all they gave for free | |
To ugly ducking girls like me | |
We all play the game and when we dare | |
To cheat ourselves at solitaire | |
Inventing lovers on the phone | |
Repenting other lives unknown | |
That call and say, " Come dance with me" | |
And murmur vague obscenities | |
At ugly girls like me at seventeen |