"The soul of God is poured into the world through the thoughts of men." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thursday, April 05, 2007

little motel


I hope that you like it in your little motel,
And I hope that the sweep season suites you well.
Well I can see it as time and a sight through smell,
That’s why it’s nice to be by yourself.

And that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, aren’t I?
That’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, darling.

We treat mishaps like sinking ships,
And, I know that I don’t want to be out to drift.
Well I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips,
And, they both tell me that we’re better than this.

‘Cuz that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, aren’t I?
That’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, darling.

We trade tit for tat like that for this,
And, I don’t think that there was an insult that was missed.
I can see it in your eyes like I taste your lips,
And, I’m very sorry.

‘Cuz that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, aren’t I?
That’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, that’s what I’m waiting for, darling.

The raining is over, shooting star,
And directly on our broke-down riddled car.
We fold and we had made a wish,
That we would be missed,
If one or another just did not exist.

That’s what we’re waiting for, that’s what we’re waiting for, that’s what we’re waiting for, aren’t we?
That’s what we’re waiting for, that’s what we’re waiting for, that’s what we’re waiting for, darling.

That’s what we’re waiting for, aren’t we?

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