Sweating it out in my room. 
Barefoot and unbuttoned to the waist. 
The street car runs all night 
and I can't wait. 
So meet me down behind the abattoir 
with the last of the summer kings. 
Meet me down at the lake. 
I said, "these waves come in from California." 
You said, "these waves are all brand new," 
and "summer is easy 
living in the city downtown." 
Thieves in the city. 
Bees in the flowerbeds. 
Kissing downtown and then the sun come up. 
In your summer dress you said, 
"a culture with shaking breath, I want it now!" 
Well in my mouth the sun will sound 
when that evening sun go down. 
Down to the lake, past the windmill like a fireball 
through your broken window. 
Down to the lake with shaking breath and the bloody owls 
at the end of summer racket. 
You said, "tonight we can't be held by fences or by chains." 
Down at the lake with a bad moon shining in the waves.