Texty: Suzanne Vega. 99.9 F°. As a Child.

As a child
You have a doll
You see this doll
Sitting in her chair

You watch her face
Her knees apart
Her eyes of glass
In a secretive stare

She seems to
She seems to
She seems to
Have a life

She seems to
She seems to
She seems to
Have a life

Pick up a stick
Dig up a crack
Dirt in the street
Becomes a town

All of the people
Depend on you
Not to hurt them
Or bang the stick down

And they seem to
They seem to
They seem to
Have a life

They seem to
They seem to
They seem to
Have a life

As a child
You see yourself
And wonder why?
Can't seem to move

Hand on the doorknob
Feel like a thing
One foot on sidewalk
Too much to prove

And you learn to
You learn to
You learn to
Have a life

You learn to
You learn to
You learn to
Have a life