Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress |
| Hiding in her cellophane world in glitter town |
| Awaiting the prince in his white Capri |
| Dynamic young Tarzan courts the bedsit queen |
She's playing the actress in this bedroom scene |
| She's learning her lines from glossy magazines |
| Stringing all her pearls from her childhood dreams |
| Auditioning for the leading role on the silver screen |
Patience my tinsel angel |
| Patience my perfumed child |
| One day they really love you |
| You'll charm them with that smile |
| But for now it's just another Chelsea Monday |
Drifting with her incense in the labyrinth of London |
| Playing games with faces in the neon wonderland |
| Perform to scattered shadows on the shattered cobbled aisles |
| Would she dare recite soliloquies at the risk of stark applause |
She'll pray for endless Sundays as she enters saffron sunsets |
| Conjure phantom lovers from the tattered shreds of dawn |
| Fulfilled and yet forgotten the St. Tropez mirage |
| Fragrant aphrodisiac, the withered tuberose |
Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child |
| One day they really love you, you'll charm them with that smile |
| But for now it's just another Chelsea Monday |
[Hello John, did you see The Standard about four hours ago? |
| Fished a young chick out of The Old Father |
| Blond hair, blue eyes. She said she wanted to be an actress or something |
| Nobody knows where she came from, where she was going |
| Funny thing was she had a smile on her face |
| She was smiling, what a waste] |
Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress |
| Buried in her cellophane world in glitter town |
| Of Chelsea Monday |