A story about young love at the lake. You've been there, haven't you?

This song felt to me like one of Brian Eno's layered vocal type songs (as opposed to the ambient or "idiot energy" ones). Naturally, it didn't turn out exactly as I had envisioned, but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless.

She sits in her chair
While the old man has his paper and coffee
Her knees bent, feet on the seat
With a glare that could topple Qadhafi
The walls oh the wooden walls
How she wants to tear them down
With a cry to the glistening sky
To the lake without a sound

She waits for the rolling of shoulders
Revealing a subtle benigning
Half-dressed in her favorite suit
When she sees me at the window signing
So we go down, so we go down
So we go down to the lake
Through the brush and the brambles and such
That get tangled in my cape

To the lake, to the lake

We stand at the edge of the lake
Like content little conquering warriors
Our screams as we dive in delight
Surely fade into neighboring foyers
Mary Mae, Mary Mae, Mary Mae
Won't you take me in your fort
In the light till the coming of night
Till the autumn ships de-port...