Waiting upstate in the pines
|
There's a man
|
Whose arms are twisted round the vines
|
Looking out for her to show
|
But she's late
|
The sound of the crickets all around
|
In the heat
|
|
In the heat
|
They say you'll sell your body to the heat
|
|
So he takes his muslin bag
|
To the well
|
Runs his fingers through his hair
|
He's unwell
|
Then the sea comes into view
|
And he moves downhill
|
Meets his car down by the bay
|
Drives away
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Come on now - gotta take it in your stride...
|
Well a fugitive can run but he can't hide
|
|
Nothing happens in the town
|
Nothing moves
|
A lone mosquito settles down
|
On a shoe
|
|
-----------------
|
Nothing happens
|
Salad |