She's forty-one years old, an' she's so pretty:
Men all turn their heads as she walks by.
But sometimes when she looks into the mirror,
She finds another line, an' then she'll cry.
So she goes down to a bar, an' there, she listens,
To the same old line from a man she's never seen.
She tells herself she's just alone, not lonely,
But at times, it's hard to draw the line between.

She's free but she's not easy.
She's got wings and she can fly.
But she chooses who she's gonna fly with,
An' she chooses when to be alone at night.

She thinks about a man she almost married:
She couldn't love him but she really tried.
And on the night she told him it was over,
She almost made it home before she cried.
Tonight, she's all alone in her apartment:
By now, she's learned to make it on her own.
She lies awake an' thinks about her freedom,
And the price she pays for the right to be alone.

She's free but she's not easy.
She's got wings and she can fly.
But she chooses who she's gonna fly with,
An' she chooses when to be alone at night.

She's free but she's not easy.
She's got wings and she can fly.
But she chooses who she's gonna fly with,
An' she chooses when to be alone at night.

She's free but she's not easy.
She's got wings and she can fly.

To fade.