lyrics
Darling, the stars are out in the June sky.
Kids throw their caps in the air to see the bats fly.
The dog in the yard, he's chewin' his fleas,
because even at midnight, it's eighty-five degrees.
And I'm on the sidewalk in the moon's humid white,
watching the moths crash head-on into the streetlights.
I'm full of the whiskey I downed at Big Joe's -
fifty cents left and I just stubbed my toe
on the curb out in front of the duplex you rent
with a waitress who keeps pickled yams in the basement.
The neighbors in the right half have all the lights on,
but your half is dark, so I guess that you're gone.
Or maybe you're lying awake in the dark,
while the waitress is on the back porch for a smoke.
A dog barks in somebody's yard down the block,
upset 'cause the neighbor's dog stole the toy sock.
But here I am - somehow, it doesn't feel wrong:
a night full of whiskey, a head full of song.
And if I were someone else, you'd pull the blinds,
and beneath your window, I'd sing all the right lines
to some silly song about fireflies and lights,
and moonbeams, and bad dreams,
and sweet summer nights.
Darling, it's midnight, I'm in your front yard
humming a tune, and I feel like a retard,
thinking about you inside your four walls,
and I'd better move on before somebody calls
the police, and they come, and I have to explain
that I'm harmless, shy, smitten, flat wasted, but quite sane.
The moon laughs at me from her heavenly dome,
and before I pass out, I guess I'll just go home.
But there I was - somehow, it didn't feel wrong:
a night full of whiskey, a head full of song.
And if I were someone else, you'd pull the blinds,
and beneath your window, I'd sing all the right lines
to some silly song about fireflies and lights,
and moonbeams, and bad dreams,
and sweet summer nights.
credits
from
Atavist,
released October 12, 1999
license
all rights reserved