Skyshine outside is a low purple glow, sun’s already dropped behind the bungalow. Light on the water, light off your face, a light without source, directionless rays guide us on to the bamboo bar on the beach where there are no stools and everyone just leans. In this affair we’re both aware that one thing’s clear. While you’re over there, I’m now here. I guess the one thing I’ve learned from this great big mess is now I know that I just can’t guess. Now I know that I just can’t guess.
Out across the old state highway twenty-seven, suburban boys get a ride from mom out to Roller Heaven. Two bucks to get in, head straight to the Slushee stand, sit and sip and watch the couple skaters holding hands. Our boys move along and rent their skates, with a smile the girl asks if they’re gonna rent dates. As they go to lace up their boots alone, they suddenly feel stupid, call mom, let’s go home. They suddenly feel stupid, call mom, let’s go home.
Hold my hand and drive my car and let me sit and watch the road as it stretches out before me just beyond the headlights’ glow. And tell me soothing things that complement the tunes that crackle out my speakers and fill our moving room. I don’t think you know it but I think that you’re the one, I don’t hand my car keys to just anyone. Are you tired, well I am too, so let’s pull off this road soon and spread out that big blanket and lie under the full moon. And spread out that big blanket and lie under the full moon.