And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrows parties
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
To all tomorrows parties
And where will she go and what she gonna do
When midnight comes around
She turn once more to Sundays clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrows parties
Linens and silks of last night's gowns
To all tomorrows parties
And what will she do with Thursday's rags
When Monday comes around?
She'll turn once more to Sundays clown
And cry behind the door
And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrows parties
For Thursday's child is Sundays clown
For whom none will go mourning
A blackened shroud a hand-me-down gown
Of rags and silks; a costume
Fit for one who sits and cries
For all tomorrows parties
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