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On the streets of the springs |
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With short hair and torn jeans |
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I saw her walking into the video store |
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I held myself an aisle away |
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And peered over her shoulder while browsed through the videotapes |
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My heart lept when she chose angus, the genius, and the sure thing |
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Forgot to check my own tapes out first |
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The alarm went off as I followed her through the door |
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I followed her to Monolith |
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Though I kept my distance I followed her through the stacks |
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These were the records she found and she and she held and lingered on |
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The farmboy, creep, miami then craftwork |
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Considered the soft boys but odd for her bandwagon left |
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George was still around then and he said |
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"have you heard the hit parade record yet?" |
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Outside next to a parking meter |
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With a carmengia with no top and stickers that read |
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"meat is murder" "the connels" "the smiths" and "ministery forever" |
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Before I could fail to say hello |
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Or she could even drive off my heart skipped a beat |
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She met some guy from the ropers |
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And kissed him |
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As I looked away |
