what was she doing on the shore that night?

Staring at the summer triangle
Forgetting the names of all the funny shapes
Laying back connecting diamonds 
Out on the beach like all the other apes

Tracing faces with her fingers
Following comet tails with her eyes
Humming songs though she’s no singer
Letting her hands glide across her thighs

When the moon dies down behind a cloud,
Spilling black ink into space,
The waves crash down on her chaise lounge
And wash her away from this place
What a waste

Lie back
With gentle fingers
Lie back
And use both hands

Words and music by michael johnson
© 2006 zubsongs, ltd.