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Camper Van Beethoven

All Her Favorite Fruit

  alternative  indie rock  indie  rock  post-punk
747 3 часа назад

Текст песни Camper Van Beethoven - All Her Favorite Fruit

Camper Van Beethoven - All Her Favorite Fruit слова песни




I drive alone, home from workAnd I always think of herLate at night I call herBut I never say a wordAnd I can see her squeeze the phone between her chin and shoulderAnd I can almost smell her breath faint with a sweet scent of decayShe serves him mashed potatoesAnd she serves him peppered steak, with cornPulls her dress up over her headLets it fall to the floorAnd does she ever whisper in his ear all her favorite fruitAnd all the most exotic places they are cultivatedAnd Id like to take her there, rather than this trainAnd if I werent a civil servant, Id have a place in the coloniesWed play croquet behind white-washed walls and drink our tea at fourWithin interventions distance of the embassyThe midday air grows thicker with the heatAnd drifts towards the line of treesWhen negroes blink their eyes, they sink into siestaAnd we are rotting like a fruit underneath a rusting roofWe dream our dreams and sing our songs of the fecundityOf life and loveOf life and loveOf life and love

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