Mountain Goats, The. In The Cane Fields. Zeneszám

i tasted the wet sugar on your lips

it brought me alive

songs blended unsurely

one another on the arms of the air,

we looked around the living room.

there was cool jazz on the stereo,

the sound was clean and clear.

i was ready to absorb you into myself,

my jaw was hanging open.

i got so hungry and i felt so dunk

i felt your muscles tighten and relax

and tighten and relax.

and tighten and relax.

and tighten.

and then relax.



i knew a cuban guy who worked can when he was young,

can you imagine it?

he said that the tension that it bred in his back was enough to make you laugh.

bending and rising sixteen hours a day,

we looked around the living room.

your sweating skin pressed on me and we were drowning.

and i don't want to hurt you anymore.