They say she's not a lady 'cause every love has its price Night after night, Ruby. another man at her side And each one colder than the last The men get older And the bed lies, the dream dies, and the looks fade too fast Ruby's got a past But when she's sleeping alone, she dreams of cleansing her soul just like they promised in church... but the Sundays seem to come and go like the preachers on the radio Above the noise, and the neon there's a saxophone playing smoky old familiar notes that float up the stairs Ruby takes a rose from her hair Sees her face in the mirror Wipes her cheek with a tear Under the make-up, she longs to be touched Ruby don't ask for much And when she's sleeping alone, she dreams of cleansing her soul just like they promised in church But the Sundays seem to come and go like the preachers on the radio Some sell their bodies for dimes While others marry for the houses, and the jewelry It's a real thin line what you charge for your timeTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
