| Adam’s at the window
|
| Staring at teh apple trees on fire
|
| Waiting for the windfall
|
| That brings the smile of kings and their desire
|
| Door blows in behind him
|
| A floral pattern summer dress so gay
|
| Burning in the sunlight
|
| Too late to wait
|
| For darkenss won’t delay
|
| To steal her cherry lips away
|
| For while the coareless tongues of sunlight
|
| Slowly trickle down
|
| The curve of hips her fingertips
|
| In kissing sips we drown
|
| In kissing sips we drown
|
| And Adam will have his way
|
| Adam will have his way
|
| Adam’s on the island
|
| Living in the land of love
|
| Shadows lurk around him
|
| Drunk on the royal jelly of pure love
|
| Full and ripe the fruit hang
|
| For when the prince arrives he will want more
|
| And more and more he will drink from the canvas cup
|
| The son of a swan will then loose his plumera
|
| And he will wear a new age suit
|
| And haunt the joints in town
|
| And play a silver magic flute
|
| And call his lovers down
|
| And call his lovers down
|
| And Adam will have his way
|
| Adam will have his way
|
| Adam will have his way
|
| Adam’s at the easel
|
| Painting in the wrinkles and the grey
|
| Waiting for November
|
| Easy with the darkness of the day
|
| Smiles a tear of gladness
|
| And Adams at the window once again
|
| Burning in the sunlight
|
| Too late to wait
|
| For darkness won’t delay
|
| To steal her cherry lips away
|
| For while the careless tongues of sunlight
|
| Slowly trickle down
|
| The curve of hips, her fingertips
|
| In kissing sips we drown
|
| In kissing sips we drown
|
| Repeat Chorus… |