E E7
The morning sun touched gently on
A E
the eyes of Lucy Jordan
in a white suburban bedroom
B B7
in a white suburban town.
E E7
As she lay there 'neath the covers
A E
dreaming of a thousand lovers
B B7
till the world turned to orange
E E7
and the room went spinning round.
A
At the age of thirty-seven
E
she realized she'd never ride
through Paris in a sports car
B
with the worm wind in her hair.
E E7
So she let the phone keep ringing
A E
as she sat there softly singing
B
the nursery rhymes she'd memorize
A E
in her daddy's easy chair.
E7
Her husband is off to work
A E
and the kids are off to school
and there were oh so many ways
B B7
for her to spend a day.
E E7
She could clean the house for hours
A E
or re-arrange the flowers
B
or make it through the shady stream
E
screaming all the way.
A
At the age of thirty-seven
E
she realized she'd never ride
through Paris in a sports car
B
with the worm wind in her hair.
E E7
So she let the phone keep ringing
A E
as she sat there softly singing
B
the nursery rhymes she'd memorize
A E
in her daddy's easy chair.
E7
The evening sun touched gently on
A E
the eyes of Lucy Jordan
on the roof top where she climbed
B B7
when all the laughter grew too loud.
E E7
And she bowed and cursed to the man (?)
A E
who reached out ... off to her his hands (?)
B
and led her down to a long white car (?)
E E7
that waited, past the crowd.
A
At the age of thirty-seven
E
she knew that she'd found heaven
as she rode along through Paris
B
with the worm wind in her hair.
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