|
I know this girl |
|
And just like me she's got a lot to say |
|
She calls me in the morning |
|
To tell me 'bout last night |
|
And if this isn't me, who am I? |
|
Her tragic story could easily be mine |
|
The story of last night... |
|
Oh, all these stories.. |
|
She's got this book, |
|
Full of tales about women in different lives |
|
But they all get up in the morning, |
|
Thinkin' 'bout last night. |
|
And if I'm not me, who am I? |
|
Their stories are all cut out to be mine |
|
The stories of last night... |
|
Oh, all these stories. |
|
And the circles we move through |
|
The lives we defend |
|
The men that we trust |
|
The positions we put ourselves in |
|
One million different stories |
|
One million different ways |
|
One million nights! |
|
I'm a woman so I try |
|
I try out the story of last night |
|
Oh, all these stories.... |
|
I know this girl |
|
And just like me sometimes she turns really quiet |
|
And though it's early early morning, |
|
To her it's still last night |
|
And me, well I'm up an I |
|
I've got one more story added to my life, now |
|
The story of last night.. |
|
Oh all these stories.. |
|
I'm a woman so I try... |