"Oh, she's only seventeen
whine whine whine, weep over Everything
Bloody Mary breakfast busting up the street
brothers fighting, When's the baby gonna sleep
heaving ship too sails away
Said it's a culmination of a story and a goodbye session
it's a tick of Our Time and the tic in her head That made me feel so strange so I Could
call you baby, Could I call you,
dammit, it's to one in a million
Oh, it's the rolling of your English tongue
That made me want to stay ".
(Between the Lines)
I can not with your name,
vowel salt and dead letters;
or with your hair,
since a guessing sleep another night
between my fingers.
Neither your nervous laughter,
or your comentadísimo "angry eyebrows" that scares most one (two)
when you're mad as big people
(like you did, in front of me, to recreate a while,
but a rather long).
If I say something totally random
as soon after that
certainly would know
I mentioned to you (your name, your hair),
but not even try to deny
lying because I'm no good (but indecent).
vowel salt and dead letters;
or with your hair,
since a guessing sleep another night
between my fingers.
Neither your nervous laughter,
or your comentadísimo "angry eyebrows" that scares most one (two)
when you're mad as big people
(like you did, in front of me, to recreate a while,
but a rather long).
If I say something totally random
as soon after that
certainly would know
I mentioned to you (your name, your hair),
but not even try to deny
lying because I'm no good (but indecent).
But I said before, and you were terrible with my poor voice.
Now I just have too much modesty, like a hit in the garage at ten thirty-two pe-em (maybe I should dedicate the song four months ago, then yes that would have occurred, show me that anything could have happened anything).
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