Maybe it's the way she lets her hair down on a Sunday afternoon.   Or maybe it's the fact that she's romantically attracted to the moon.   Maybe it's the perfume that I know she doesn't wear.   Or maybe it's the way she dances when think thinks there ain't nobody there.      She loves me in the morning without warning before that sun begins to rise   And in the evening I can tell her feelings just by looking in her eyes   Songbirds in the garden sing to her through frozen holidays   All my woe and trouble is gonna double when we go our separate ways.      Sugar, dandelion, honey, peach don't do to much for me.   Cause I ain't no Casanova and I never tried to be.   Something in her smile charms me like a child and then    She turns the thieves and outlaws into nothing less than perfect gentlemen.      The moon is in the mountains and the night is making pictures of the sky.   And I've nothing for you, honey, but this simple lullaby.   Should your mind forget me, regret me, or even do me wrong,   You'll always live here in my heart cause baby that's where you belong.