| To wake up in the morning
|
| You find a way to cope
|
| You’re tryna lose the feelin'
|
| Walkin' on the mountain slope
|
| When in the wake of the hikers
|
| The smell of crushed herbs
|
| In a clearing in the forest
|
| Is a tree that looks like her
|
| In a state of panic
|
| In complete distress, oh
|
| All the vegetation
|
| Is a pattern on her dress
|
| An angel descended
|
| And asked me what was wrong
|
| I said not to believe
|
| Anything I said in my song
|
| Don’t try to deconstruct me
|
| You’ll never find a way
|
| There is no contradiction
|
| In anything I say
|
| A contrapposto marble
|
| At the bottom of the sea
|
| Oh I’ll never be as cool as that
|
| But you’re as warm as me
|
| Dark glasses on the beach
|
| Looking ensconced in history
|
| Beneath this calm exterior
|
| I’m frantic
|
| The wreck is out of reach
|
| But I see it through my misery
|
| Dancin' in the waves of the Atlantic
|
| Oh, oh, hey-hey
|
| Oh, oh, oh
|
| Sweet peas on the trellis
|
| A deck chair on the lawn
|
| An ibis flew above me
|
| And I began to yawn
|
| I could read no farther
|
| In my acute distress
|
| The sorrows of your mother
|
| Couldn’t interest me less
|
| Carrying spring onions
|
| You took me by surprise
|
| I put my hand before my face
|
| To shield my bleary eyes
|
| Dark glasses on the beach
|
| Looking ensconced in history
|
| Beneath this calm exterior
|
| I’m frantic
|
| The wreck is out of reach
|
| But I see it through my misery
|
| Dancin' in the waves of the Atlantic
|
| Dark glasses on the beach
|
| Looking ensconced in history
|
| Beneath this calm exterior
|
| I’m frantic
|
| The wreck is out of reach
|
| But I see it through my misery
|
| Dancin' in the waves of the Atlantic |