There's a boy throwing rocks at my window,
Sitting on a bench down below.
And he says: "Come and spend some time,
With me, beneath the washing line."
And, he looks as handsome as the night,
Hands in his pockets, his face in daylight.
So I let him in,
And I take his hand,
And I do my best to understand,
Oh I, I do the best that I can.
We lay down, and look out my window.
Outside there was a distant glow, and,
We whisper every word wildly,
Talk of all the things we're gonna do.
And he, kisses me on the eye,
And out the window we seem to fly,
'Cause, I let him in,
And I take his hand,
And I do my best to understand,
Oh I, I do the best that I can.
There's a nightbird singing at my window,
The bench is empty down below, and I lay,
Awake, to hear the open gate,
But he don't come around no more, so,
I pretend to let him in.
I pretend to take his hand.
I imagine that I understand,
Oh I, I do the best that I can,
My, my, my, my, I understand.