Shaved head and her pierced nose
Big rotweillers and her tie-dyed clothes
Dr. Martins with her biker tights
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 a 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
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
Those babies would be free