Getting Lost On Your Front Porch; Ninety Degree Moon

Even though I'm watchin' you
All the time,
I still can't remember
Your soft green eyes
Even though
I'm just a contradiction
On a rusty old bike;
I got it for my birthday
One year
And held it close
And away from everything
That scared me at the time;
The fear of being called White Trash
Because my complexion
Is paler than the snow;
Oh, I miss the comfort
Of your home;
The hardwood floors,
Oh, they itched my toes
The carpet that held my my dreams
And let me trip
Over the ridges of their cut;
I remember reading
Where the Wild Things Are
And wishing I could get lost
On your front porch
Where the summer nights
We sat
Wishing for just a little coolness
In the 90 degree moon;
The slip 'n slide
Where we found our enemies
Of the sun;
I'll miss it, Honey Bee,
Oh, I'll miss it,
My formerly known