"Saturday's Child" as written by Michael Clark Gurley, Davis Leduke and Chris Sorensen....
Hey, you crash a party of your dream
The crowd was artsy, what a scene
You gotta get it while you can

Hey, you dyed your hair you ripped your jeans
Tattooed your ass, what does that mean
Your parents just don't understand

Here she comes
Sweet-born Saturday's child (child)
Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child (child)

Oh, you're shaking through the disco
New York, Paris, San Francisco
Oh, oh, oh, my little continental girl, all right

Hey, you're kicking down the boulevard
Feather boa, you're a star
In your private jet set world, all right

Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child (child)
Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child (child)

And while your friends are busy paying on the morning after
Oh yeah
You're drinking your mimosa while you're planning your next social disaster
Yeah

Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child
Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child

Oh, you're shaking through the disco
New York, Paris, San Francisco
Oh, oh, oh, my little continental girl, all right

Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child (child)
Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child (child)
Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child (child)
Here she comes,
Sweet-born Saturday's child, yeah
Here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes
Here she comes



Lyrics submitted by RoseCircus

Saturday's Child song meanings
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