Annie Johnson

(Album: Natural High - 1994)

In a dimly lit bar in the city
You can see her any night of the week
Selling her favours to strangers
Giving them the pleasures they seek
If you look into her eyes you'll see sorrow
Replacing what used to be pride
You are looking at sweet Annie Johnson
With the ghost of the lady inside

Oh the smiles that are part of her business
Tender words that are part of the trade
Fancy clothes are Annie's diploma
Small reward for the price she has paid
Satisfaction is Annie's delusion
But her pleasure is just a charade
No one cares about poor Annie Johnson
No one cares about the lady inside

I recall how we once played together
And the way that her bright arms would shine
As I watched her grow into a lady
And I thought that she'd always be mine
One more round for the boys in the backroom
One more round for the passing of time
As the tears fall for sweet Annie Johnson
And a tear for the lady inside

I remember sweet Annie Johnson
Long before the lady had died