On promenades where drunks propose to lonely arcade mannequins...
Where ceremonies pause at the jewelers shop display...
Feigning casual silence in strained romantic interludes...
Till they commit themselves to the muted journey home,
And the pool player rests on another cue...
Last night's hero picking up his dues,
A honeymoon gambled on a ricochet...
She's staring at the brochures at the holidays...
Chalking up a name in your hometown...
Standing all your mates to another round...
Laughing at the world till the barman wipes away the warm wet circles,
The warm wet circles,
I saw teenage girls like gaudy moths,
A classrooms shabby butterflies,
Flirt in the glow of stranded telephone boxes;
Planning white lace weddings from smeared hearts and token proclamations,
Rolled from stolen lipsticks across the razored webs of glass...
Sharing cigarettes with experience...
With her giggling jealous confidantes,
She faithfully traces his name...
With quick bitten fingernails,
Through the tears of condensation...
That'll cry through the night...
As the glancing headlights of the last bus...
Kiss adolescence goodbye.
In a warm wet circle...
Like a mother's kiss on your first broken heart,
A warm wet circle...
Like a bullet hole in central park,
A warm wet circle...
And I'll always surrender ... to the warm wet circles.
She nervously undressed in the dancing beams of the Fidra lighthouse,
Giving it all away before it's too late,
She'll let a lover's tongue move in a warm wet circle,
Giving it all away and showing no shame,
She'll take a mother's kiss on her first broken heart...
A warm wet circle,
She'll realise that she played her part ... in a warm wet circle
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