A little bird told me late last night that if I hold my breath and do everything right,
you might come back.
If I colour my hair and I wear it down and I make you laugh like a circus clown,
you might come back.
And the little bird said with a wink of an eye, if I beg real hard and do not cry,
you might come back.
If I keep my opinion under my breath and I only let it out when the master says,
you might come back.
But I don’t, want you that bad. No I don’t, want you that bad.
Well the little bird told me as plain as day that if I change my name and change my way,
you might come back.
If I sold my soul for the greater cause, if I burn my records and listen to yours,
you might come back.
And the little bird said in the middle of a dream, that if I shut my mouth and don’t make a scene,
you might come back.
If I cross my fingers and curl my toes, if I look like all the other girls, everybody knows,
you might come back.
But I don’t, want you that bad. No I don’t want you that bad.
