His hands are in her hair,
And his lips are on his neck,
She fakes a moan,
Despite the fact,
That even if her body is HOT,
Her heart is still i.c.e cold.

So she shuts her eyes,
And she plays it again,
Her only real love song,
If she keeps hearing it,
She can last,
'Til this is over.

She sits out on the porch,
It's February in SoCal,
It's been three months,
Since she left,
She wishes it would rain,
The DROPS won't come down.

So she goes inside,
And picks up her guitar,
The only excuse of her old life,
This way she can almost,
Hear the thunder,
At least 'til this is over.

She's in her back yard,
Planting a garden in spring,
When she feels a warm weight,
On the small of her back,
She FreezeS up,
It's a little bLACk puppy.

She brings him inside,
And it rains that night,
He sits on the edge,
Of her bed looking out,
And she sings to him,
'Til it's all over.

He finds her in August…
He doesn't come,
But on a Tuesday,
Just sends a letter,
I miss you,
And she SCREAMS.

The dog runs in,
And she cries herself,
To sleep into his fur,
Because she can't get,
His song out of her head.
(So it'll never be all over)