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(Reed)

 And what costume shall the poor girl wear
 To all tomorrow's parties
 A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
 To all tomorrow's parties

 And where will she go and what shall she do
 When midnight comes around
 She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
 And cry behind the door

 And what costume shall the poor girl wear
 To all tomorrow's parties
 Why silks and linens of yesterday's gowns
 To all tomorrow's parties

 And what will she do with Thursday's rags
 When Monday comes around
 She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
 And cry behind the door

 And what costume shall the poor girl wear
 To all tomorrow's parties
 For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown
 For whom none will go mourning

 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

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