Lyrics:

She's shopping for kicks, got the weekend to get throughkeeping the rain off her Saturday hairdoshe stops for a coffee, she smiles at the waiterhe winks at his friends and they laugh at her laterhe's cleaning his car on his pebbledash drivewaynew chamois leather he got for his birthdayhe reads Harold Robbins, flirts with his neighbourignores her at breakfast, he's reading the paperhe dreams of a roller, she dreams of a fast getaway.He's not a prince, he's not a kingshe's not a work of art or anythingit makes no sense another yearwhat kind of A to Z would get you herehe's nothing special, she's not too smarthe studies fashion, she studies artI thought I told you right from the startyou were just my inbetweenjust my inbetweenyou're such an inbetweener.She went to the dream boys, got tickets from Keith Prowseshe cancelled his lifelong subscription to Penthouseshe goes round the corner she sees Harry Conwayshe says to herself that she'll leave him on Mondayhe dreams of a roller she dreams of a fast getaway.He's not a prince, he's not a kingshe's not a work of art or anythingit makes no sense another yearwhat kind of A to Z would get you herehe's nothing special, she's not too smarthe studies fashion, she studies artI thought I told you right from the startyou were just my inbetweenjust my inbetweenyou're such an inbetweener.Now it's much too late to ask me where i've beenyou were just my inbetweener