|
Well she's got no money to bet, |
|
But she could be a bookie |
|
She's got no fame yet, |
|
But she could sing her boogie |
|
She's hiding all her bubblegum, |
|
Looking for a real chum |
|
She knows more than anyone, |
|
That her day will come |
|
Her day will come |
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She's got an old mobile, |
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But could receive calls, |
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She's got a pretty smile, |
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But no one gives a hand |
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When she falls down |
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She's hiding all her bubblegum, |
|
Looking for a real chum |
|
She knows more than anyone, |
|
That her day will come |
|
Her day will come |
|
She's got a pretty face, |
|
Just waiting a kiss |
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She's got her own charm, |
|
But she's never been on the hot list |
|
Hiding all her bubblegum, |
|
Looking for a real chum |
|
She knows more than anyone, |
|
That her day will come |
|
She's hiding all her bubblegum, |
|
Trying to find a real charm |
|
She knows more than anyone, |
|
That her, I'm sure, her day will come |
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She's living confusing days, she writes and then erases |
|
So she prefers permanent pen, |
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And sleeping at ten, |
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To wake and watch the sun while she |
|
She chooses her bubblegum, |
|
Looking for a real chum |
|
She knows more than anyone, |
|
That her day will come |
