Pacific Telephone - Papooz

She get’s her high hopes down

The moon outsmarts the sun

And nothing really matters

Since the nighttime, nighttime

In a dusty bar uptown

I like the way she sounded

Easy with the sailors

Flirting after hours

Lucille’s got the face of an earthquake

Shaking, shaking

She takes off her dress in the misty

Morning, morning

I paid the man and drove

To some place down the coast

The landscape in the distance

Enfolded like a river

On the beach the sun was scorned

My hands around her throat

Tried my best to show her

How dreams get turned to silver

Lucille’s got the face of an earthquake

Shaking, shaking

She takes off her dress in the misty

Morning, morning