| We speak in the store
|
| I’m a sensitive bore
|
| You seem markedly more
|
| And I’m oozing surprise
|
| But it’s late in the day
|
| And you’re well on your way
|
| What was golden went gray
|
| And I’m suddenly shy
|
| And the gathering floozies
|
| Afford to be choosy
|
| And all sneezing darkly
|
| In the dimming divide
|
| And I have read the right books
|
| To interpret your looks
|
| You were knocking me down
|
| With the palm of your eye
|
| This was unlike the story
|
| It was written to be
|
| I was riding its back
|
| When it used to ride me
|
| And we were galloping manic
|
| To the mouth of the source
|
| We were swallowing panic
|
| In the face of its force
|
| And I am blue
|
| I am blue and unwell
|
| Made me bolt like a horse
|
| Now it’s done
|
| Watch it go
|
| You’ve changed some
|
| Water runs from the snow
|
| Am I so dear?
|
| Do I run rare?
|
| And you’ve changed some
|
| Peach, plum, pear…
|
| Peach, plum… |