Sign in with Facebook
Marianne Faithfull
Author profile
born
December 29, 1946
in Hampstead, London, England, The United Kingdom
gender
female
website
genre
|
Faithfull
by Marianne Faithfull, David Dalton    3.95 avg rating — 444 ratings
—
8 editions
|
My rating:
|
|
Memories, Dreams and Reflections
 3.48 avg rating — 73 ratings
—
5 editions
|
My rating:
|
|
Year One
by Marianne Faithfull, David Dalton 3.50 avg rating — 4 ratings
—
published
1996
|
My rating:
|
|
Marianne Faithfull
0.00 avg rating — 0 ratings
—
published
2000
|
My rating:
|
|
|
Collection
0.00 avg rating — 0 ratings
—
published
2005
|
My rating:
|
|
Private Ireland: Irish Living & Irish Style Today
by Simon McBride, Karen Howes, Marianne Faithfull 3.40 avg rating — 5 ratings
—
published
2000
|
My rating:
|
Upcoming Events
No scheduled events.
Add an event.
“Never apologize, never explain - didn't we always say that? Well, I haven't and I don't.”
― Marianne Faithfull
― Marianne Faithfull
“The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.
At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair”
― Marianne Faithfull
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.
At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.
The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.
At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair”
― Marianne Faithfull
Is this you? Let us know. If not, help out and invite Marianne to Goodreads.
