Текст: Elvis Costello. This Year's Model. This Year's Girl.

See her picture in a thousand places
'cause she's this year's girl.
You think you all own little pieces
of this year's girl.

Forget your fancy manners,
forget your English grammar,
'cause you don't really give a damn
about this year's girl.
Still you're hoping that she's well spoken
'cause she's this year's girl.
You want her broken with her mouth wide open
'cause she's this year's girl.
Never knowing it's a real attraction,
all these promises of satisfaction,
while she's being bored to distraction
being this year's girl.

Time's running out. She's not happy with the cost.
There'd be no doubt, only she's forgotten
much more than she's lost.

A bright spark might corner the market
in this year's girl.
You see yourself rolling on the carpet
with this year's girl.
Those disco synthesizers,
those daily tranquilizers,
those body building prizes,
those bedroom alibis,
all this, but no surprises for this year's girl.
All this, but no surprises for this year's girl.
All this, but no surprises for this year's girl.