Palm trees tickling the skyline Cover me in dead vines I spoke with the plastic skeletons And they're all drinking Dandelion wine and admiring the shoreline Telling me they love it when I tap my tambourine And wear my skinny jeans or pray like Augustine Oh, am I good in spite of Or because I am nineteen? Just tell me what you mean, friend Life is no long weekend Hope you have it in you to undress again
I saw Chicago, it was rotting Jazz ballads played low. No one saw me Crawl like a gecko toward sunlight So many fat crows with appetite
Do you wanna dance like a fire ant In the eye of a long-dead bison? Do you wanna love like a poet can? The husk of their fruit just ripened Do you wanna meet on the cold concrete Outside our favourite diner? Do you wanna wrap me up in suede Smudge off my black eyeliner?
Notebooks filled with dirty poems All slanted like hipbones of women Who stand and twist the cords of telephones I kiss your microphone and blame it on hormones Oh, I've become addicted to the smell of your cologne But why can't we just keep it our little summer secret? You should know that everything I say won't be repeated Drink your margarita, flirt with drunk Maria Chasing skirts like some golden retrieverTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
