Camper Van Beethoven - All Her Favorite Fruit lyrics

I drive alonehome from work

And I always think of her

Late at night I call her

But I never say a word

And I can see her squeeze the phone between her chin and shoulder

And I can almost smell her breath faint with a sweet scent of decay

She serves him mashed potatoes

And she serves him peppered steakwith corn

Pulls her dress up over her head

Lets it fall to the floor

And does she ever whisper in his ear all her favorite fruit

And all the most exotic places they are cultivated

And I'd like to take her thererather than this train

And if I weren't a civil servantI'd have a place in the colonies

We'd play croquet behind white-washed walls and drink our tea at four

Within intervention's distance of the embassy

The midday air grows thicker with the heat

And drifts towards the line of trees

When negroes blink their eyesthey sink into siesta

And we are rotting like a fruit underneath a rusting roof

We dream our dreams and sing our songs of the fecundity

Of life and love

Of life and love

Of life and love