now she's milk and she's apples
|
you're scotch and segregation
|
lips like molasses
|
you're smiling saccharine sidewalks
|
|
crashing the car just to make a connection each week
|
greasing the palm of the grease monkey keep it discreet
|
|
while she types and she answers
|
you pay for information
|
wonder what are the chances
|
just pray there's conversation
|
|
taking your faith past her desk on a mid day drive
|
radio filling aborting your mission drive by
|
|
you're in the bathroom playing dead
|
i just know numbers now i'm feeling
|
what am i feeling what am i feeling and what i feeling
|
i can't cut though to you
|
|
caught yourself while undressing
|
nude in a cold reflection
|
hands probe assessing
|
slow pills to change the painting
|
|
running the ship over rocks as the sirens sing storms
|
taking the water to heart as you make for the shore
|
|
she's milk and apples
|
and i'm on nine
|
|
-----------------
|
Milk And Apples
|
| Jets To Brazil |
