oh, it’s late, it’s late, it’s late
she told me
and i’ve half-forgotten
these things explode and wash us all clean
but i still feel so dirty...
she’s said this before
well, it’s all beyond me
go home and clear your head boy
it’s banged up and bruised and it’s all gone so rusty
the way that you been living...
oh it’s straight, it’s straight, it’s straight and forty
past eleven twenty
the sidewalk’s been rolled
and i’ve just pushed all this down
babe you got nothing for me
he stepped on the stem
and we’re slipping on the seeds...
he left the windows open!
but nothing’s been closed
that weren’t locked up already
so i’m dressed for summertime
brave the shore
the stay is slow
only when you’re outside looking in