Restless angels scale the walls upstaging Mr. Fields
While Rodger and his concubine drink whiskey from their heels
Silent, suntanned Stan, he’s got a basketball degree
In quiet rooms, young girls are writing poetry
Laughing in the bedroom like a trooper to the last
And she’s looking to the future while she’s living in the past
Drinks a bowl of courage and she fights the urge to flee
In quiet rooms, young girls are writing poetry
Living on a bed of glass blown by the queen of beads
And she tells me all of my problems while she satisfies my needs
Solemn and inspired I fall down and feel so free
In quiet rooms, young girls
In quiet rooms, young girls
In quiet rooms, young girls are writing poetry
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