| I met her at the moonbase
|
| We went for a passport picture
|
| She told me how her dad died
|
| She kept his bass in the basement
|
| And her friends at the bar
|
| Were all drunk with compassion
|
| She shrunk when they wrapped arms around
|
| And slapped hands to bare shoulder blades
|
| Prayed some pedestrian gravity
|
| Might pull hard at the end of her cigarette
|
| It was awkward in the car
|
| It was easy in the bathroom
|
| It was true love in Denver
|
| We were licking up the crumbs
|
| We were terrible dealers
|
| Peddling head for favors
|
| In the pre-dawn blue forever
|
| Ah, ah
|
| Ah
|
| Ah, ah
|
| She was a big red bike
|
| And a lace white dress
|
| And black canvas boots laced to the last eyelet
|
| On Columbus Boulevard
|
| With little brown spots of spent rain
|
| Swept up from the bright black street
|
| There were books on tray tables
|
| In airliner cabins
|
| Platitudes spilled onto petulant napkins
|
| All piled with good luck
|
| Under an old truck stop sign
|
| Where I caught a glimpse
|
| Of your spirit through mine
|
| Where I caught a glimpse
|
| Of your spirit through mine
|
| All piled with good luck
|
| Under an old truck stop sign
|
| Where I caught a glimpse
|
| Of your spirit through mine
|
| Ah, ah
|
| Ooh, ooh
|
| Ah, ah
|
| Ah, ah
|
| Ooh, ooh
|
| Ah, ah |