Baby
Her shaved head and her pierced nose,
Her big rotweillers and her tie-dyed clothes,
Her Dr. Martins with her biker tights,
Her long black leggings on a hot summer night
And nobody calls her baby,
Nobody says "I love you so,"
Nobody calls her baby,
I guess she'll never know
His working boots and flannel shirts,
His sympathies buried as deep as his hurts,
Long lonely walks with nowhere to go,
His only appointment's with a tv show
And nobody calls him baby,
Nobody says "I love you so,"
Nobody calls him baby,
I guess he'll never know
Eighty pounds, she's hardly whole,
Losing her body to gain some control,
Hours alone in some tanning salon,
Trying a smaller and smaller size on
And nobody calls her baby,
Nobody says "I love you so,"
Nobody calls her baby,
I guess she'll never know
His Pin-striped suits and wing-tipped shoes,
His lap-top computer and his Wall Street news,
He makes his plane and keeps his pace,
He hides his pain behind a poker face
And nobody calls him baby,
Nobody says, "I love you so,"
Nobody calls him baby,
I guess he'll never know
But somebody loves those babies,
Somebody loves what we can't see,
And if somebody told them maybe,
Thos babies would be free
Bebé
Su cabeza rapada y su nariz perforada,
Sus grandes rottweilers y su ropa teñida,
Sus Dr. Martins con sus mallas de motociclista,
Sus largas mallas negras en una noche calurosa de verano
Y nadie la llama bebé,
Nadie dice 'te quiero tanto',
Nadie la llama bebé,
Supongo que nunca lo sabrá
Sus botas de trabajo y camisas de franela,
Sus simpatías enterradas tan profundamente como sus heridas,
Largos paseos solitarios sin ningún lugar a donde ir,
Su única cita es con un programa de televisión
Y nadie lo llama bebé,
Nadie dice 'te quiero tanto',
Nadie lo llama bebé,
Supongo que nunca lo sabrá
Ochenta libras, apenas está completa,
Perdiendo su cuerpo para ganar algo de control,
Horas solas en un salón de bronceado,
Probándose tallas cada vez más pequeñas
Y nadie la llama bebé,
Nadie dice 'te quiero tanto',
Nadie la llama bebé,
Supongo que nunca lo sabrá
Sus trajes a rayas y zapatos de punta alada,
Su computadora portátil y sus noticias de Wall Street,
Él toma su avión y mantiene su ritmo,
Esconde su dolor detrás de una cara de póker
Y nadie lo llama bebé,
Nadie dice 'te quiero tanto',
Nadie lo llama bebé,
Supongo que nunca lo sabrá
Pero alguien ama a esos bebés,
Alguien ama lo que no podemos ver,
Y si alguien les dijera tal vez,
Esos bebés serían libres