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Hey baby--
when you gonna gimme back my keys?
gimme back my shoe? my smile?
Gimme back my...gimme my...
...yeah.

See, I sit here while she throws satin fits beside me
across the savannah of our fears.
I sit here, and the streetlight goes off like a smoke alarm,
deserting this nervous curbside
while I kill one, brief Marlboro.

And let me tell you baby,
you damn sure fit me like a wet crocheted dress,
in from rain and dripping
on the gazebo floor.
But she casts her tantrums as tightropes I have to cross,
and I can't slip into you yet
because I left my sister out there with a crazy woman;
I left here there where the bulb is popping,
the wire trembles, the savannah calls...

So gimme back my keys...my shoe...
I'm so afraid so baby willya
chase the windows open while I'm gone,
open up a can of...somethin'?
'Cause I'm in love with the sound of the driving rain
down your silver soak-ed back--
a camel's integrity,
a camel's integrity
on the banks of a dead and shipwrecked sea.

Copyright 1995 by Terra Elan McVoy -- from the table beneath the hand