Lyrics Jets to Brazil

Jets to Brazil

Milk and Apples

now she's milk and she's apples

you're scotch and segregation

lips like molasses

you're smiling saccharine sidewalks

crashing the car just to make a connection each week

greasing the palm of the grease monkey keep it discreet

while she types and she answers

you pay for information

wonder what are the chances

just pray there's conversation

taking your faith past her desk on a mid day drive

radio filling aborting your mission drive by

you're in the bathroom playing dead

i just know numbers now i'm feeling

what am i feeling what am i feeling and what i feeling

i can't cut though to you

caught yourself while undressing

nude in a cold reflection

hands probe assessing

slow pills to change the painting

running the ship over rocks as the sirens sing storms

taking the water to heart as you make for the shore

she's milk and apples

and i'm on nine