I still want to have a chart hit, go to pop parties
I still want to go to Paris in the spring
I still want to get my hair cut just like Jean Seberg
I still want to shout and scream, say what I mean

A milllion reasons for wanting to carry on living to achieve
A million things I am unlikely ever to carry out
But I like the make-believe

I still want to have a garden with flowers, not mud, in
I still want to learn the art of being rude
I still want to hear you end your half-finished pop songs
I still want to be who I am, but be it with you

Hopefulness to hopelessness is not very far, I suppose
Hopefulness to hopelessness is not very far, but don't go
Ever blur the line

I still want to have nice straight legs that look nice in kicks
I still want to do what I can without being told
I still want to hear you throwing stones at my window
I still want somebody who will watch me grow old...