The ones that spring upward in the wee hours And smile because the sun is coming soon - The ones that rise with the sun And keep right on rising, Even 'til the sun is setting - Then they rise on Into the night,
He likes girls with fluttering fingers That tingle when they touch you - Ones with round-eyed spirits That peek out from the pockets of their irises.
He likes joy girls,
Those "sun-in-my-pocket" girls, The skipping instead of walking, The "I'm too tired of talking, (I'd rather be off singing)" Girls,
Girls with giggles so infectious His frown can't help but slip-up,
He holds these girls the tightest to him 'cause his days look much too much like The endings of,