To fill this black river, to float on in disguise
I don't know those guys
Guess I'm the boring type
But the truth is that I can't dig it
When everyone I meet
Same asshole I met last week
I noticed I don't dream
Even thunder storms or pretty things
It's just tape deck hiss and trampolines
Cindy skips my mountain peak
And I must sing for her return to somewhere sweet and clean
And tell her what I mean
Cook something salty sweet
Bring back familiar taste in the library
A leaky nose and swingy hips
Heavy breathing gives me chapped lips
Cindy, won't you stay a while?
I'll dig you up computer piles
Cook dinner, try to make you smile
But there is nothing about me now
No mountain peak, no hidden lake