Just a-being in your service
Words are full of indecision
They evince the troubled nimble wit
But storm and pessimism 'stead of dreamin'
And just a-standing in your pretty prison
You think you love me, don't you?
Maybe you're the presence
That begs needing other reasons
I got "Summer still looks pretty"
I got hungry for the hungry seas
Oh, living for the people
That have nothing but their blues
And I have nothing to be nervous about