Infallible were the nights we spent alone on rocky shorelines I never gave all those pent-up emotions I had to the king of the stop signs Like you did I never counted on your instances You do kid About counting lost images oh, oh
Dishonorable were the things we stashed when we were in Oklahoma Counting our chickens before they've hatched and saying your freckles were melanoma Like we did I could always count on you being morbid You may kid But your eyes don't lie when you are sordid
Containable were our dark white lies we told each other in confidence Playing the double agent just like a cave filled with resonant Echo-o-o-o-o-o-os
good times, good times, good times, good times, good times.