One Two Nine

When you wave ta ra, it sometimes makes me shiver, i die at the bar, then you say you fool and gave a little quiver I'll be back soon what you tell is rotten, stories of ports and rivers, from your battered car, your image's just a spool, tales all delivered, bottles, tar, tidal wool, a bravura from afar, between passage as my lover, left as a reminder scar, to forget me when i drool, for somewhere a tide remembered, when you drain the pool, trust the lands of la la, or say love’s your ember, Santa Fe, Kobe, Antofagasta, somewhere you'll go under.