Jet Thrust & Blushes

I am an old girl
As far as girls go
And so manage only
To listen hard
So so so high you were
There was a highway up to you
All jet thrust and blushes
And topiary trees
Jet thrust and blushes, love
And topiary trees

No joke, no joke, Bub.
I have collected things surrounding you
A hyssop, a salt-bud
A sleeting last year
Alighting fantastic,
A bevy of terns fly to you
Wrapped in a string bound box
Come home and find us
Come home and find us
Come home and find us
Come home and find us