Renee, make a promise to me
Let your hair grow to your knees
And I will not be far, you'll not be in harm's way, Renee.
The stragglers bring mud to your door
And trouble for all those who mourn, but do not answer it
Stay inside and leave the lights unlit
And night and day I watch you hide away, Renee.
Oh, the full moon can't afford the pull that's coming from the likes of you.
And oh, to tell you.
And I bet it said "if it wasn't for me, the waves won't come."
High in its bed it goes moving with your moving car,
It said, "the hardest part is getting older, the hardest part is getting old."
Renee, you've a way to row
Through a lake of fire and fog of cigarette smoke.
The dirt-eating moon, don't hurt her, be good.