Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Sweet Annabelle:
as seen reclining on an ocean swell,
as the waves do lather up
and lay her down,
'til she's fast
and sleeping.

Oh,
well,
I guess I'm something of a ne'erdowell;
who fell asleep
at the pealing of the steeple bell.

I'm on track,
and keeping, but oh:

If I could only get you oceanside,
to lay your muscles wide,
it'd be heavenly.
Oh,
if I could only coax you overboard;
to leave these lolling shores,
to get you oceanside,
oceanside.

Oceanside.

At rising tide,
you're looking fresher than a July bride.
We're picking up what
our mothers always stigmatized.

The field is ripe
for reaping.

Oh, well:
I guess I'm something of a ne'erdowell;
even though that's
something I could never do well,
I'm on track,
and keeping, but oh:

If I could only get you oceanside,
to lay your muscles wide,
it'd be heavely.
Oh,
if I could only coax you overboard;
to leave these lolling shores,
to get you oceanside,
oceanside,
oceanside.

Oh, oh.