southern drawl...
lets not settle for anything less...
tongues press tongues in the dive bars,
'round the corner.
and the jukebox sways, as it sings "last call"
- even tho your man still wants to dance.
"keep on your dancing shoes" he says,
and pulls your body into his.
his slick sweat mingles with your fingertips
and you cry into his shoulder that its never been soooo nice.
he takes you home, and the radio plays some slow hillbilly country tune,
where the harmonica whales and whales into the warm soft night.
and when you're there,
tongues mingling tongues again in the back of his dirty pick-up truck...
you can't help but think "lets not settle for anything less..."
shambling into bed, the southern night fades...
and when you think of meloncholy, you think of a dark yellow cat...
or a boy who wanted to be a cat, with blonde hair and glasses,
and sit on your lap to warm his soul and purrrrr.
the blues singers of the soon-forgotten yester-year,
had nothing on that dark yellow kitty-cat...
and neither does your man, swaying with the dive-bar jukebox
like a pussywillow in the wind.
tongues press tongues in the dive bars,
'round the corner.
and the jukebox sways, as it sings "last call"
- even tho your man still wants to dance.
"keep on your dancing shoes" he says,
and pulls your body into his.
his slick sweat mingles with your fingertips
and you cry into his shoulder that its never been soooo nice.
he takes you home, and the radio plays some slow hillbilly country tune,
where the harmonica whales and whales into the warm soft night.
and when you're there,
tongues mingling tongues again in the back of his dirty pick-up truck...
you can't help but think "lets not settle for anything less..."
shambling into bed, the southern night fades...
and when you think of meloncholy, you think of a dark yellow cat...
or a boy who wanted to be a cat, with blonde hair and glasses,
and sit on your lap to warm his soul and purrrrr.
the blues singers of the soon-forgotten yester-year,
had nothing on that dark yellow kitty-cat...
and neither does your man, swaying with the dive-bar jukebox
like a pussywillow in the wind.