Blondie

Some days are all Mondays
Sort of time on ice
It seems like jet planes
On snowed in runways
Under clear blue skies
Who needs it?
Nothing is real but the girl
Nothing is real but her
Money goes to money
In a figure eight around me
Mommy
Who's gonna love me if I liquidate and drown me?
Nothing is real but the girl
Nothing else feels solid
We believe in love
We believe in little things
Like heaven up above and seven it's a lucky number