Red. blue.
where are you tonight,
you say everything just right everything's just right.
i live on a dead end street where men and women meet.
the countries really far from me.
where the seasons get universal.
yeah, the seasons get universal
why are you still surprised by a quart of gin and a quarter scotch,
a quiet airplane and a half-hour off the clock.
where are you?
your hair knows.
your hair knows the top of your t-shirt
and your back was up in arms about it.
but i'm not as good as the inner states are;
i can't take you that far.
to a polish town in german tongues
and in time with irish rounds he thinks every russian girl is you.
did he hear? he didn't hear here.