Out, with a guarded resolve, and a love of the coast
Now, tether doorway to rug, so the good is not lost

I was looking, I was peeking over I was looking
In the corner feather flint the salt
I've heard it's all the same
So I hope I'm still alive of course
When it does hit the sun

Now, when I pass through to gaze, I will die with your hand
So, I have gathered your crates, and replaced them with mine

I was looking, I was peeking over I was looking
In the corner feather flint the salt
I've heard it's all the same
So I hope I'm still alive of course
When it does hit the sun

And you'll be lucky once
Waiting for the centre aisle
When the summer cart
Drags you for miles
So you cover up
As the weather starts to change
Then you settle in
And the business it remains