By Deborah Harry
Shayla worked in a factory
She wasn’t history
She’s just a number
One day she gets her final pay
And she goes far away
Oh oh-oh oh oh oh-oh oh
Oh oh-oh oh oh oh-oh oh
Green trees call to me
I’m free but life is so cheap
Scenery is still outside of me
All alone trapped by its purity
Shayla turned to run away
To leave in peace and end her stay
Years are few and anyway
Lost in space and down she came
Suddenly, some subtle entity
Some cosmic energy brushed her like shadows
Down here we stop to wonder
Cars on the freeway, bright lights and thunder
Oh oh-oh oh oh oh-oh oh
Oh oh-oh oh oh oh-oh oh
Oh oh-oh oh oh oh-oh oh
Oh oh-oh oh oh oh-oh oh