| Lyrics |
she's shopping for kicks, got the weekend to getthroughkeeping the rain off her Saturday hairdoshe stops for a coffee she smiles at the waiterhe winks at his friends and they laugh at herlaterhe's cleaning his car on his pebbledash drivewaynew chamois leather he got for his birthdayhe reads Harold Robbins he flirts with hisneighbourignores her at breakfast he's reading the paperhe dreams of a roller she dreams of a fastgetaway.he's not a prince he's not a kingshe's not a work of art or anythingit makes no sense another yearwhat kind of A to Z would get you herehe's nothing special, she's not too smarthe studies fashion, she studies arti though i told you right from the startyou were just my inbetweenjust my inbetweenyou're such an inbetweenershe went to the dream boys got tickets from Keith
Prowseshe cancelled his lifelong subscription to
Penthouseshe goes round the corner she sees Harry Conwayshe says to herself that she'll leave him on
Mondayhe dreams of a roller she dreams of a fast getawayhe's not a prince he's not a kingshe's not a work of art or anythingit makes no sense another yearwhat kind of A to Z would get you herehe's nothing special, she's not too smarthe studies fashion, she studies arti though i told you right from the startyou were just my inbetweenjust my inbetweenyou're such an inbetweenernow it's much too late to ask me where i've beenyou were just my inbetweener
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