(song lyric)

I can see it there in the sweep of stars

In a press of waves, in a line of cars

In the grain of wood beneath my beer on the bar

In the eyes of the girls with their hands on their hips

And four-letter words sleeping on the pillows of their lips

I can hear it there in the tousling weeds

In the window fan’s electric breeze

In the pots and pans in the kitchen sink

And it makes me wanna get another drink

From the gaunt-faced girl with the neon nails, behind the bar

I can feel it there just like a favourite pen

Like a boomerang comin back again

In a midnight choir singin round a fire

In a perfect song on the radio

And it puts me in the mood for a tail-gate party at a Grateful Dead show

I can taste it there…