now she's milk and she's apples   you're scotch and segregation   lips like molasses   you're smiling saccharine sidewalks      crashing the car just to make a connection each week   greasing the palm of the grease monkey keep it discreet      while she types and she answers   you pay for information   wonder what are the chances   just pray there's conversation      taking your faith past her desk on a mid day drive   radio filling aborting your mission drive by      you're in the bathroom playing dead   i just know numbers now i'm feeling   what am i feeling what am i feeling and what i feeling   i can't cut though to you      caught yourself while undressing   nude in a cold reflection   hands probe assessing   slow pills to change the painting      running the ship over rocks as the sirens sing storms   taking the water to heart as you make for the shore      she's milk and apples   and i'm on nine