she knows

she walks around late at night, in my old allman brothers t-shirt, and not much else, there's a hint of her perfume, in the air, she lets her hair dry, all by itself, then she shits down next to me and paints her toes, and asks me why i'm staring, she knows what she does to me, all the little things set fire to my soul, and i love that girl, and i go out of my way, to find a way every day, to make sure she knows, i might call to say, "how's your day?", or stop off at the chevrom, and buy a rose, i might save a little cash from my check, and get that dress, she thought she'd have to sew, i'll make her a card and scratch out words, and still not get it right, she knows what she does to me, all the little things that set fire to my soul, and i love that girl, and i go out of my way, to find a way every day, to make sure, to make damn sure she knows, ooh.