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the morning comes to a stuttering halt |
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the cool breeze that blows is somebody's fault |
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the summer heat tries to burn through |
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and i look over to warn you but something's happening |
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the morning glories climb the wall |
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and you speak in a slow drawl |
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i'm trying to piece together what you're saying |
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but the birds are screeching, the hounds are baying |
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i don't remember there being any hounds around here |
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we lean back and we clink our glasses |
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raise the drinks to our thirsty mouths, |
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and thick as molasses ice cold vodka eases in as |
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the low pressure system brings the breezes in |
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and they sashay and pirouette above you |
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the only thing i know is that i love you |
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and i'm holding on, |
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yeah |
