Can you hear the sound of birds and bees entangled

I sting you in the wing you slap me on the stubble

Are we two vending machines sitting around wasting

Waiting for spare change when we should be busy tasting

A little bit a little hint of our own medicine

I could be crying in my coffee you could be barking in the basement

Whining where is Ronald Reagan when you need him

I'd gladly trade my arms for some freedom

You had a learning experience at my own expenses

You ironed out some wrinkles and hammered out some dents

So soon we'll either be passing through important pregnant portals

Or else we'll be falling and crashing through our left open windows

You're an etch-a-sketch with an erasable part

I'm a romantic hopeless with a gloomy guitar

And I faux pas because I'm a faux poet

If there's a chance at joy I'll be sure to blow it big time

In this wobbly world chock full of carnivores

Should we consider ourselves lucky we are only vegetables

Who can't distinguish or decide between fuck and love

And sadly don't want either nearly bad enough