Down this wild street walks
Walks a child with no trace
Of ever being as young as her sister is
A local neighborhood crush the boys would hide out and watch
Her hanging washing on the line all the time.
More like a woman she talks like one
She was the first girl, she was the first girl
To turn the boys on
Wrapped around her finger
Making love was only dreaming
This girl she's got another story.
When they are gone she blows them kisses on the wind.
At the corner shop half way down the block
All the radios pumping to the way she walks
Past the fly boy's art where her name's engraved
Sweet liberty is what it says.
The price of puberty's got
A way of showing
It doesn't come in easy stages
Her mother's face in the pot
She won't ever leave it
She needs a bell to ring the changes.