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Night though i do not sleep |
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I dream of the park up the road |
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I open the bushes, a couple of lovers |
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Trying to be [lust-rockers] |
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And although my spouse is in the other room |
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I think we can do it here |
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Yes, uh, and she makes me pay |
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For every [girl and dussel of hat] |
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Anyway here, quiet here |
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You thought it'd be great |
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You thought it'd be great |
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But a good mind does not a good fuck make |
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I take you to the park up the road |
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But here is the rain |
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Rain makes policemen no threat |
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Turns cars into little specks |
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Muffles the shouts of your neighbour |
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And we will have sex here |
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Here, here |
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Couch, shagged out |
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There's no hard-ons |
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It's just come and it's gone |
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I'm becoming everything i used to hate |
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But i can't go back there |
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Not back there, i can't go back there |
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Not back to the park |
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The brown monk ghost'll catch us |
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And make us lust-rockers |
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Make us wear huckleberry masks and, uh, huckleberry masks |
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You sing you don't believe in [couples] |
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But i can't believe that |
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Especially the crap about the huckleberry masks |
