And what costume shall the poor girl weart
to all tomorrow's parties.
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
to all tomorrow's parties.
And where will she go and what shall she do
And where will she go and what shall she do
when midnight comes around.
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
and cry behind the door.
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
to all tomorrow's parties.
Why silks and linens of yesterday's gowns
Why silks and linens of yesterday's gowns
to all tomorrow's parties.
And what will she do with Thursday's rags
And what will she do with Thursday's rags
when Monday comes around.
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
and cry behind the door.
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
to all tomorrow's parties.
For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown
For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown
for whom none will go mourning.
A blackened shroud, a hand-me-down gown
A blackened shroud, a hand-me-down gown
of rags and silks, a costume.
Fit for one who sits and cries
for all tomorrow's parties.
Fit for one who sits and cries
for all tomorrow's parties.
Lou Reed.
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