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The mornin' sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy JordanIn her white suburban bedroom, in a white suburban townAs she lay there 'neath the covers, dreaming of a thousand lovers'Til the world turned to orange and the room went spinnin' roundAt the age of 37, she realized she'd never ride through ParisIn a sports car, with the warm wind in her hairAnd she let the phone keep ringin' as she sat there softly singin'Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chairHer husband, he was off to work, and the kids were off to schoolAnd there were oh so many ways for her to spend her dayShe could clean the house for hours, or rearrange the flowersOr run naked down the shady street screaming all the wayAt the age of 37, she realized she'd never ride through ParisIn a sports car, with the warm wind in her hairAnd she let that phone keep ringin' as she sat there softly singin'Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chairThe evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy JordanOn the rooftop where she'd climbed when all the laughter grew too loudAnd she bowed and curtsy to the man, who reached and offered her his handAnd led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowdAt the age of 37, she knew she'd found forever as they rode along through ParisWith the warm wind in her hairOoooohhh yes with the wind in her hair oooooohhhh From Letras Mania