Twenty-five the season of dope Three sheets to the wind like a clothes line 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 15? And she came to him like a tick on the news 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 gra** Let's smoke it real fast Is anybody out there? He was deep like a graveyard, wired like T.V. And how could he have known That she'd be down for almost anything But she was only, only, only 15 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 15 She was only, only, only 15 She was only, only, only fifteen