Steve Goodman Donald And Lydia
Small town, bright lights, Saturday night -
Pinballs and pool halls are flashing their lights.
Making change behind the counter in a penny arcade
Sat the fat girl daughter of Virginia and Ray.
Lydia!
Lydia hid her thoughts like a cat -
Behind her small eyes, sunk deep in her fat.
She read romance magazines up in her room,
And felt just like Sunday on Saturday afternoon.
But dreamin' just comes natural
Like the first breath from a baby
Like sunshine feedin' daisies
Like the love hidden deep in your heart
Bunk beds, shaved heads, Saturday night -
A warehouse of strangers in 60-watt lights.
Starin' through the ceiling, just wanting to be,
Lay one of too many, a young P.F.C.
Donald!
And there were spaces between Donald...
And whatever he said.
Strangers had forced him
To live in his head.
He envisioned the details of romantic scenes
After midnight in the stillness of the barracks' latrines.
But dreamin' just comes natural
Like the first breath from a baby
Like sunshine feedin' daisies
Like the love hidden deep in your heart
Hot love, cold love, no love at all
A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall
Nothin' is wrong and nothin' is right,
Donald and Lydia
Made love that night.
Love!
They made love in the mountains,
They made love in the streams,
They made love in the valleys,
They made love in their dreams.
And when they were finished,
There was nothin' to say -
Because mostly they made love from
Ten miles away.
But dreamin' just comes natural
Like the first breath from a baby
Like sunshine feedin' daisies
Like the love hidden deep in your heart