Eyes behind boxes,
locks on foxes,
Orchard lips from over there,
damn, look at her with the foxy brown hair.
Looking far from the same,
she’s looking at me, her, in those sexy frames.
Many years I missed,
like dancing from the hips,
cooler nights with poking nips.
Ain’t that a trip,
my glass is missing its wine,
thirsty lips, your lips, I need a sip,
yeah, that means yours on mine.
A cali cutie,
in yoga pants, she’s
a Bally’s beauty.
Love swept under the rug,
in the hole that I dug,
Can’t blame you if you shrug cutie,
It’s the third quarter, a little early
I’m coming back, like Doug Flutie.