Palm trees tickling the skyline
Cover me in dead vines
I spoke with the plastic skeletons
And they’re all drinking
Dandelion wine and admiring the shoreline
Telling me they love it when I tap my tambourine
And wear my skinny jeans or pray like Augustine
Oh, am I good in spite of
Or because I am nineteen?
Just tell me what you mean, friend
Life is no long weekend
Hope you have it in you to undress again

I saw Chicago, it was rotting
Jazz ballads played low. No one saw me
Crawl like a gecko toward sunlight
So many fat crows with appetite

Do you wanna dance like a fire ant
In the eye of a long-dead bison?
Do you wanna love like a poet can?
The husk of their fruit just ripened
Do you wanna meet on the cold concrete
Outside our favourite diner?
Do you wanna wrap me up in suede
Smudge off my black eyeliner?
Notebooks filled with dirty poems
All slanted like hipbones of women
Who stand and twist the cords of telephones
I kiss your microphone and blame it on hormones
Oh, I’ve become addicted to the smell of your cologne
But why can’t we just keep it our little summer secret?
You should know that everything I say won’t be repeated
Drink your margarita, flirt with drunk Maria
Chasing skirts like some golden retriever