Текст песни The Eighteenth Hole - Tim Baker

There she is
Aloft in her long white dress
Belonging with someone else
I should have never left
Get me out of it
And into to the South Side hills
Where I can be calm and still
Something I never feel
And your so-called friends
They never understand
They want you to chill out, man
Something you never can
And your only hope
Is to make like you want a smoke
Just fade into the eighteenth hole
Don't even go back for your coat
Soon it will be Sunday morning
And you know your uncle will be early golfing
Saying, "What have we here?"
You're cracking his jokes
Maybe he'll give you a beer
And drive you home
And you turn on your phone
And there she is
Coming through a late night text
Wondering about her friend
I should have never left