This is a version a friend sent me it seems to be correct. Am C F Am It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways Am C F Am If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days Am C F Am Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely Am C F Am You are but a young girl working your way through the phonies Chorus Dm F Eadd4 Am Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading. Dm F Eadd4 Am Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's degrading. Am C F Am The flowers on your stockings wilting away in the midnight Am C F Am The book you are reading is someone's opinion of moonlight Am C F Am Your skin is so white, you'd like maybe to go to bed soon Am C F Am Just closing your eyes if you're to rise up before noon Dm F Eadd4 Am High heels, car wheels, all the losers are groovin' Dm F Eadd4 Am Your dream, strange scene, images are movin' Your friends they are making a pop star or two every evening You know that scene backwards, they can't see the patterns they're weaving Your friends they're all models but you soon got over that one You sit in your one room a little brought down in London Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading. Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's degrading. It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely You are but a young girl working your way through the phoniesIt's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely You are but a young girl working your way through the phonies Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading. Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's degrading. The flowers on your stockings wilting away in the midnight The book you are reading is someone's opinion of moonlight Your skin is so white, you'd like maybe to go to bed soon Just closing your eyes if you're to rise up before noon High heels, car wheels, all the losers are groovin' Your dream, strange scene, images are movin' Your friends they are making a pop star or two every evening You know that scene backwards, they can't see the patterns they're weaving Your friends they're all models but you soon got over that one You sit in your one room a little brought down in London Cafe on, milk gone, such a sad light and fading. Yourself you touch, but not too much. You hear it's degrading. It's Saturday night, it feels like a Sunday in some ways If you had any sense, you'd maybe go away for a few days Be that as it may, you can only say you are lonely You are but a young girl working your way through the phonies
