Red. Blue Where are you tonight You say everything just right everythings just right I live on a dead end street where men and women meet The countries really far from me Where the seasons get universal Yeah, the seasons get universal Why are you still surprised by a quart of gin and a quarter scotch A quiet airplane and a halfhour off the clock Where are you? Your hair knows Your hair knows the top of your Tshirt And your back was up in arms about it But Im not as good as the interstates are I cant take you that far To a polish town in German tongues And in time with Irish rounds he thinks every Russian girl is you Did he hear? He didnt hear here
universal, halfhour, season, quart, hair