It all happened on a Saturday. He had to be a man an leave her smile such a sad way, such a sad way. It goes back a long time ago. Wide-eyed, Big Apple treated you such a bad way, such a bad way. You know what you want, but you don't know how to do it. When you talk about running, you say you can't go through it. When you take the first step you will see there is nothing to it. And she likes Saturdays, she likes Saturdays now. She likes Saturdays, can't keep her out of the house. She likes Saturdays, she likes Saturdays, yeah, and you know that she keeps everything to herself. You know how to start, but you donít know how to finish. When you're trying again, but the memories never vanish. It might take some time, 'til his Saturdays diminish. Cos she likes Saturdays more than anything else. She likes Saturdays, got to keep them all to herself. She likes Saturdays, she likes Saturdays, yeah, she'd tell you, but no one knows where she went out. Waited forever for a Saturday. Looks like things didn't turn out as bad as you might say. You know what you need, but you don't know how to get it. To admit that you're wrong, but you're trying to sweat it. You keeping pleading your case, I suggest you just forget it. She likes Saturdays more than anything else.