---

Oh your pictures they don't really
do you justice, little girl
For you're careful not to let
the camera touch your private world
And there's just a hint of sadness
in your smile through the dark
As you slip your dress off
slowly for the sailor or the clerk

And it could have been so different
and at times you feel bad
For you really did have something
that the others never had
And the circle turns and turns
and turns so mad, little girl

Ah you must have been just fifteen
when you made your mind up first
That you'd make it in the movies
and you couldn't lose the thirst
And it took you to the attic
where the Agent King holds court
And his courtesans are
fully paid up losers of a sort

He looks at you and tells you
that you just might get the part
But you don't get things for nothing
and he doesn't want your heart
And the circle turns and turns
and turns so mad, little girl

Mmm, you made it to the silver screen
and yet you're not a star
And advertising corsets
didn't get you too far
But money has its favourites
and yours went back to them
So you modeled in a studio
in Greek Street for the rent

There you met Antonio,
your lover from afar
Who put you on the streets
to make the money for his car
And the circle turns and turns
and turns so fast, little girl

Ah, your pictures they don't really
do you justice any more
For they're crumpled now and faded
and were taken long ago
And that faintly coy expression
has now left without a trace
Ah there's little of it buried
in the ruins of your face

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