Now she comes in here each night,
And looking quite the sight,
In her tight blue jeans and her faded smile,
And she won’t admit she’s out of style.

At a place of mid-life fears,
Drinking down a life of tears,
On the bar stool in the corner;
Barbie’s just a damsel in distress.

Traveling in the fast lane in her youth,
Doing booze with gin and vermouth.
Won’t accept her time is coming to an end.
She still looks for white knights around the bend.

On the outside looking in
Of her glass of mixed up gin,
She’s giving all the signals of
A damsel in distress.

Ken comes in here each night,
And he’s looking none too bright.
In his western boots and his cowboy hat,
His hair is thin, and his stomach’s fat.

'Round the bar room, he steers,
In the winter of his years
To a place just next to Barbie,
To rescue the damsel in distress.