15

(albüm: Under The Blacklight - 2007)

Twenty-five, the season of dope
Three sheets to the wind like a clothesline rope
He's a spider on the web
She was a tiny woman, heap of sins
Her developing body was just the beginning
She said, "Is anybody out there?"

She was bruised like a cherry
Ripe as a peach
How could he have known
That she was only fifteen?

And she came to him like a tick on the noose
A little blue-eyed soul for his black and blues
It's a new high moon for the likes of me
Our skin is like grass, let's smoke it real fast
Is anybody out there?

He was deep like a graveyard
Wired like TV
And how could he have known
That she'd be down for almost anything?

But she was only
Only
Only fifteen

My, oh my, you pretty thing
It's about that time
For us to meet
Does your daddy have a shotgun?

He was deep like a graveyard
She was ripe as a peach
And how could he have known
That she was only fifteen?

But she was only
Only
Only fifteen
But she was only
Only
Only fifteen