August

Skin under morning light When the peaches are falling ripe I'd die right now She calls when the moon is bright She loves in the dead of night Soft spine to mouth And the magic turns lyrical And the woman is spiritual When she holds your hand And she's taking off all her clothes And she asks if your parents know That she's hiding in your bed Love writes like Kerouac Train rides and paperbacks Her sweet cliches You fall for everything Boy on a puppet string These knots are safe And the magic turns lyrical And the woman is spiritual When she holds your hand And she's taking off all her clothes And she asks if your parents know That she's hiding in your bed She's just a little girl Who likes to feel the heat rush through her veins You're crawling toward a man Who misses playing adolescent games And the magic turns lyrical And the woman is spiritual When she holds your hand And she's taking off all her clothes And she asks if your parents know That she's hiding in your bed Skin under morning light When the peaches are falling ripe She's dressing now Standing inside the door Knowing you don't need more Someday, somehow You'll see her across the road Remembering how she moaned Her tired sighs She's found another world But you know the naked girl And how she cries