Some nights my room's dark, and her lips wet with tea. And second-hand ocean air. Breaking ice into my drinking glass, drinking glasses to break the
Butterfly kissing you by the river, where it started. Sandy strands of dishwater hair and raspy whispers of cotton-picked fields, off-white, under dry
She drank white wine. Makes me want to marry her memories, madly. And she slept across the ocean as we crossed the ocean. And I got cross with the ocean
Yeah I'm eatin' but I'm losing weight again. Like I could faint, faint and fade away
Your house chased smells of sweets and cakes, strolled down around the bend. After rain, rising, springing. Aspiring to be a hill. I'd hang my hat in
The sun comes up a little later, so you can drink a little longer. I wish I had a dream last night, so half the time you'd be here. I'm on your vine
diving in. Tornado country beat Allen lumber into mud ponds, sinking in. my ears are ringing I keep hearing summer setting, I keep hearing my ears ringing
If I put my hands to your stomach, or put my lips to your hand. Birmingham has gone to motors. Take me home, keep your eyes on the road. So don't forget
