There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.
Henry Ward Beecher
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Something 'bout You Baby
I see you every day
Walking down the avenue
I'd like to get to know you
But all I do is smile at you
Oh, baby
When it comes to talking
My tongue gets so tight
This sidewalk love affair
Has got me high as a kite
Yeah, yeah, there's something
Bout you, baby, I like
Well, I'm a slow walker
But, girl, I'd race a mile for you
Just to get there in time
For my peek-a-boo rendezvous
Well, maybe it's the way you
Wear you're blue jeans so tight
I can't put my finger on
What you're doing right
Yeah, yeah, there's something
Bout you, baby ,I like
Yeah, yeah, there's something
Bout you, baby, I like
Well, I'm standing on a corner
Smiling by a telephone
I'd just love to check you over
Get to know you like
A fine tooth comb
Oh, now when I go home
I turn out the light
And you come strolling through
My dreams every night
Yeah, yeah, there's something
Bout you, baby, I like
Yeah, yeah, there's something
Bout you, baby, I like
Yeah, yeah, there's something
Bout you, baby, I like