Waiting upstate in the pines, there's a man
Whose arms are twisted 'round the vines
Looking out for her to show but she's late
The sound of the crickets all around
In the heat, in the heat
They say you'll sell your body to the heat
So he takes his muslin bag to the well
Runs his fingers through his hair, he's unwell
Then the sea comes into view and he moves downhill
Meets his car down by the bay, drives away
Come on now, gotta take it in your stride
Well, a fugitive can run but he can't hide
Nothing happens in the town, nothing moves
A lone mosquito settles down on a shoe