I was a little too tall. Could've used a few pounds. Tight pants points hardly reknown. She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes. And points all her own sitting way up high. Way up firm and high. Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy. Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy. Workin' on mysteries without any clues. Workin' on our night moves. Tryin' to make some front page drive-in news. Workin' on our night moves. In the summertime. In the sweet summertime. We weren't in love oh no far from it. We weren't searchin' for some pie in the sky summit. We were just young and restless and bored. Livin' by the sword. And we'd steal away every chance we could. To the backroom to the alley or the trusty woods. I used her she used me. But neither one cared. We were gettin' our share. Workin' on our night moves. Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues. Workin' on our night moves. And it was summertime. And oh the wonder. We felt the lightning. And we waited on the thunder. Waited on the thunder. I awoke last night to the sound of thunder. How far off I sat and wondered. Started humming a song from 1962. Ain't it funny how the night moves. When you just don't seem to have as much to lose. Strange how the night moves. With autumn closing in