Lyrics
Cynthia Weston dressed in phone booth receiver resting upon her front tooth
as she mines her pockests for change.
She's looking about for the narrator, the dialtone is broken by the operator who hums
The curious thing about leather
Sunday morning traffic came and it pushed you down to another place where
all the conversations bear your name.
Sunday morning traffic came and it pushed you down to another place where
all the situatations taste the same.
Cynthia Weston gets so depressed when she can't place the names for the pop IQ test
as the billboard's thinking differently.
The circus is calling they're looking for a darling,
ol' Miss Weston, you'd be perfect for the role.
The curious thing about leather.
Sunday morning traffic came and it pushed you down to another place where
all the conversations bear your name.
Sunday morning traffic came and it pushed you down to another place where
all the situatations taste the same.
Perhaps you lapse into a day dream
where it may seem
Too complex and daylifeesque so you wonder
worry
you might find it hard to distinguish
that in which
the dream that you just had
from the daytime genre
the cops come busting in
looking for Miss Westin
the circus in calling
looking for a darling
Sunday morning traffic came and it pushed you down to another place where
all the conversations bear your name.
Sunday morning traffic came and it pushed you down to another place where
all the situatations taste the same
