I've gone to meet Isadora's dancers
Wrote that girl on her own blue jeans
I've given up trying to find the answers
And these times the're sure turning mean
So here's to you and to my mother
And to that boy at work who lent me his radio
Because for me there's never been no others
At making friends I'm awfully slow awfully slow

I can dream of a nicer ending
And I dreamed of a lonely show
With just me and my ballerina
And she turns slowly up on her toes
And I clap and the hall it echoes
And my dancer's eyes are wide as a doe
But the time wasn't right for the moment
This I know this I know - I let her go

And it's raining and it's Sunday San Francisco
And I think I'll go take in the p___o show
Cause it's dark and it's cold and it's lonely
And it's as far from love as you can go
So here's to you Isadora's dancers
And to that girl who just had to go
And as for me, well I don't know the answers
Is life too fast or is it just too slow
Oh so slow

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