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For years she's lived on her own |
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In a corner of the city |
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Twice a year she gets back home |
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Playing catch-up with the family |
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She tells her folks what they need to know |
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Her mother says she's much too thin |
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Her sisters ask about her beau |
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Her dad inquires, how's business been |
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She's thirty-three this time around |
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She's always been real good at listening |
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Her sense of humor never lets her down |
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Except sometimes there's something missing |
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Hey, middle ground |
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A place between up and down |
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She could be safe and sound |
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Oh, to know middle ground |
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For years she's been on her guard |
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She's kind of tense around the shoulders |
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She wonders why she works so hard |
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She counts the days 'til they promote her |
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She'll take a weekend now and then |
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To stay in bed and watch the reruns |
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She'll turn the phone off when guilt sets in |
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But Sunday always kinda leaves her let down |
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Hey, middle ground; a place between up and down |
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She could be safe and sound; oh, to know middle ground |
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She gave her heart away one time, and says that she hasn't seen it since |
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Love's a puzzle in her mind; the pieces match, but don't quite fit; hey... |
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And these days run thick or thin |
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It never rains, or else it's pouring |
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All her single friends are men |
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She thinks married girls are so damn boring |
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Hey, middle ground; a place between up and down |
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She could be safe and sound; oh, to know middle ground |
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Hey, middle ground; a place between up and down |
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She could be safe and sound; oh, to know middle ground |
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Oh, to know middle ground; oh, to know middle ground |
