Sad Cinderella (1968 Version) Townes Van Zandt
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Sad Cinderella (1968 Version)" by Townes Van Zandt. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1]
When the bandits have stolen your jewelry and gone
And your crippled young gypsy, he's grown tall and strong
And your dead misconceptions have proven you wrong
Well then, princess, where you planning to turn to?
When your magazine memory has spun you around
And you realize your lovers were just painted clowns
And outside your window you start hearing sounds
Where they're building a cross for to burn you
[Chorus]
When all your bright scarlet turns slowly to blue
Will you stop and decide that it's over?
[Verse 2]
When your teardrops go sour and no longer fall
To splash 'cross the virgin that lives down your hall
And spends all her nights with an ear to your wall
Well then, what will you have you can offer?
When the fire dancers finish and leave you alone
With nothing but embers and sacks full of stone
That hang 'round your neck, slicing through to the bone
Will there still be a place for your laughter?
When the bandits have stolen your jewelry and gone
And your crippled young gypsy, he's grown tall and strong
And your dead misconceptions have proven you wrong
Well then, princess, where you planning to turn to?
When your magazine memory has spun you around
And you realize your lovers were just painted clowns
And outside your window you start hearing sounds
Where they're building a cross for to burn you
[Chorus]
When all your bright scarlet turns slowly to blue
Will you stop and decide that it's over?
[Verse 2]
When your teardrops go sour and no longer fall
To splash 'cross the virgin that lives down your hall
And spends all her nights with an ear to your wall
Well then, what will you have you can offer?
When the fire dancers finish and leave you alone
With nothing but embers and sacks full of stone
That hang 'round your neck, slicing through to the bone
Will there still be a place for your laughter?
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