If you pick from the peach tree, but the peach you pick was too sweet, you can toss it low, or you can spit the seed, and give it back for another season.
Bear the fruits of love, if you keep up, you can talk back when you had enough, or you can sit and stand, in your whiskey cup, and make it last for another season.
And all the fields we went, all in a lover's song, they'd lie, lie, to a lover's cry, could we ever have known?
No, no, but you I'll keep in a safer place, tucked away in a folding parade, no, but you I'll keep in a safer place, but for me it's hard to see.
Blessed is she, blessed is she, blessed is she, honey in my teeth, crystal on my crease, persona non grata, keep it winter where you are, with a summer face.
Lick the cap of a marmalade, oh but the sweetest peach, that you will ever taste, I feel a dream wrapped in cellophane, no.
Blessed is she, blessed is she, blessed is she, honey in my teeth, crystal on my crease, persona non grata.
No, no, but you I'll keep in a safer place, tucked away in a folding parade, no, but you I'll keep in a safer place, but for me it's hard to see.
Blessed is she, blessed is she, blessed is she, honey in my teeth, crystal on my crease, persona non grata.
You can't come home for free, waiting in the creek that leads you overseas, persona non grata.