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now she's milk and she's apples you're scotch and segregation lips like molasses you're smiling saccharine sidewalks crashing the car just to make a connection each week greasing the palm of the grease monkey keep it discreet while she types and she answers you pay for information wonder what are the chances just pray there's conversation taking your faith past her desk on a mid day drive radio filling aborting your mission drive by you're in the bathroom playing dead i just know numbers now i'm feeling what am i feeling what am i feeling and what i feeling i can't cut though to you caught yourself while undressing nude in a cold reflection hands probe assessing slow pills to change the painting running the ship over rocks as the sirens sing storms taking the water to heart as you make for the shore she's milk and apples and i'm on nine |
