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On promenades where drunks propose |
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To lonely arcade mannequins |
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Where ceremonies pause |
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At the jewelers shop display |
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Feigning casual silence |
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In strained romantic interludes |
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Till they commit themselves |
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To the muted journey home |
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And the pool player rests on another cue |
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Last nights hero picking up his dues |
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A honeymoon gambled on a ricochet |
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She's staring at the brochures at the holidays |
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Chalking up a name in your hometown |
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Standing all your mates to another round |
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Laughing at the world till the barman wipes away |
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The warm wet circles, the warm wet circles |
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I saw teenage girls like gaudy moths |
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A classrooms shabby butterflies |
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Flirt in the glow of stranded telephone boxes |
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Planning white lace weddings from smeared hearts |
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And token proclamations |
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Rolled from stolen lipsticks |
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Across the razored webs of glass |
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Sharing cigarettes with experience |
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With her giggling jealous confidantes |
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She faithfully traces his name |
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With quick bitten fingernails |
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Through the tears of condensation |
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That'll cry through the night |
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As the glancing headlights of the last bus |
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Kiss adolescence goodbye |
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In a warm wet circle |
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Like a mothers kiss on your first broken heart |
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A warm wet circle |
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Like a bullet hole in central park |
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A warm wet circle |
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And I'll always surrender |
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To the warm wet circles |
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She nervously undressed |
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In the dancing beams of the Fidra lighthouse |
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Giving it all away before it's too late |
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She'll let a lovers tongue move in, in a warm wet circle |
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Giving it all away, showing no shame |
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She'll take a mother's kiss |
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On her first broken heart, a warm wet circle |
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She'll realize that she played her part in a warm wet circle |
