now she's milk and she's apples
  you're scotch and segregation
  lips like molasses
  you're smiling saccharine sidewalks
    crashing the car just to make a connection each week
  greasing the palm of the grease monkey keep it discreet
    while she types and she answers
  you pay for information
  wonder what are the chances
  just pray there's conversation
    taking your faith past her desk on a mid day drive
  radio filling aborting your mission drive by
    you're in the bathroom playing dead
  i just know numbers now i'm feeling
  what am i feeling what am i feeling and what i feeling
  i can't cut though to you
    caught yourself while undressing
  nude in a cold reflection
  hands probe assessing
  slow pills to change the painting
    running the ship over rocks as the sirens sing storms
  taking the water to heart as you make for the shore
    she's milk and apples
  and i'm on nine