Loch Leven - Arab Strap

The rain pissed down on Leven’s shores

The sane rain would rain on superstores

And set off car alarms in our street

Let’s burn our clothes and hunt our meat

A day of skies, a day of feasts

We fell to bed, to grunt like beasts

We could live in your wee car

We could never go too far

A flash of sun between your thighs

A perfect black shape to protect my eyes

A swooping hawk, a dying tree

«Fuck me,» says he, «fuck you,» says she

If i’m a clown, then you’re a mime

But I’m sure that we’d be friends in time

The selkie put her skin back on

And swam away, back to her own