I move from blonde to brown so easily.
And I say that nothing's going wrong.
But I move from blue to green so easily.
I swam from Ireland to Spain.
But do you see that something's going on, now,
Because it's almost Fall, without you on my . . .
And I miss you from six to three, because it's not Fall.
I move from eyes to smile so easily.
And you say ths never meant a thing.
I move from voice to laugh so easily.
I move from touch to touched so easily.
Leaves are dying but something growing for you, in my . . .
You know it's only 10:15 right now?
Well, this Fall you know that we're all playing football,
In the rectory yard . . . But only if you come.
I move from books. And I move from hands.
I move from falling perfectly to just tying it all up.
I move to personality. I'm moving to the perect contrast,
Of whose skin on who?
I move to bookstores, short of change.
But you know you've both got me tied up,
And I don't know .
You know I could never choose between blue or those green eyes.
You've got me so tied up . . .
