She left the credit cards under her goodbye note   “All of these are yours, goodbye” and that was all she wrote   The keys to the Porsche she dropped on the floor in the den   She left in the ‘70 Dodge that he drove her in      She wasn’t angry   She wasn’t sad   She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had      Tired of being blonde   Tired of running around with the usual guys and dolls   Tired of being blonde   Tired of living up to all he expected   Tired of being blonde   Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one   Tired of being blonde   Tired of letting her dreams go neglected      She used to love to know she rounded out his world   She used to love to be all he ever loved in a girl   He liked to buy her clothes that made her sexy and cute   Guess she decided she’d been too long away from her roots      She wasn’t crazy   She wasn’t mad   She just knew in her heart they had drained her of all that she had      Tired of being blonde   Tired of all the platinum frustration   Tired of being blonde   Tired of looking like a cutie on the cover of a magazine   Tired of being blonde   Tired of chasing all the latest sensations      She wasn’t angry, no, no, she wasn’t sad   She was just leaving a life that a lot of women wish they had      She was tired of being blonde   Tired of living a life that had only been planned by one   Tired of being blonde   Tired of coping with the desperation   Tired of being blonde   Tired of fighting back the feeling inside that told her to run   Tired of being blonde   Tired of hiding her own inclinations