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Wide eyes and corkscrew hair |
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Tied with lace you found somewhere |
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Hard gloss on lipstick smile |
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Wound up tight to spin for a while |
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Black jeans with tortured seams |
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Don't mean that much to me |
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Cool shades and dayglo tears |
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All hide your sixteen years |
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But I don't like to say my thoughts out loud |
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But I'm liking too much what I see |
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You flirt with every little boy in town |
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In your spring collection |
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You dress to kill and now you're killing me |
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I could have been there and back |
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You're just another girl with stars in your eyes |
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But I don't want to go home with you |
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Don't like your plastic shoes |
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Don't like your hair dyed blue |
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Don't like your damned new rose |
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Don't like your casual pose |
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I don't wanna go out tonight |
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But I don't wanna sit here 'cos there's nothing on the radio |
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You're coming round tonight |
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In your parachute suit that you bought in Portobello |
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I often call your name out loud |
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And try to tell you what I'm going through |
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You'd sooner hang around with all your crowd |
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'Cos they all pose and think and dress like you |
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In your spring collection |
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You're just another girl with stars in your eyes |
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We could have been there and back |
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But I don't wanna go home with you |
