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