Trip Summer Sundays Lyrics

Summer Sundays

Break out the take out
It's ten past eight now
I swear the weather-man just said my name out
My beds covered in red wine stains and
She's got kind off a meg ryan face to her
Search for my pen and pull out my ryhme book
Perch on the bed and add a few lines to it

She pulls me near and kisses me with sour breath
Whispeing in my ear something 'bout the shower-head
This is like when Clarence and Alabama met
True romance that happened in a nano-sec
Broken curtain rails and chairs knocked over
And up the stairs I spy a trail of clothes I
Lie on my pillow exhale the smoke why
Open the window when the sex smells dope and
Off back to sleep she goes
I was wrong she looks more like a blonde Catherine Zeta-Jones / At last we picked a spot
Summer Sundays where the sun stays out past six o clock
She sun bathes I sit and watch her and some days
She looks in some ways like a ..

So the airs rich with drink and perfume
My English version of Ingrid Bergman
I’m certain when I fall asleep she's Rita Hayworth
But when I wake up she's Elizabeth Taylor
She's Jessica Rabbit, she's double any bond girl
She's Bridget Bardot she's Marylyn Monroe
But the fact is though thats not why I fell for her
'Cos no actress can act like she acts like herself /

At last we picked a spot
Summer Sundays where the sun stays out past six o clock
She sunbathes I sit and watch her
And some days she looks in some ways like a..