Two Hours Traffic Mr. Saturday
There's a girl up the stairs
Green eyes and lemon hair
I wonder if there's something there
She keeps her clothes on the floor
A padlock on her door
It keeps out all of the bad people
I wonder if there's something I could wear
To make her think that I was all that
Late at night she'll pass my door
Continue passed my floor
I'm hoping for something more
There's a park at the end of four street
Where she runs and goes to read
Behind all the highway sign and underneath all the concrete
But I can tell the ways she feels
Just by looking
Might give her the key to my apartment
Hell, I might even offer to pay her rent
That'd be alright
(OoooOooOooOooOoo, OoooOooOooOooOoo, OoooOooOooOooOoo)