pygmalion ears

nothing in life makes as much sense
as what you told me, just that once
(which, as it turns out, I misunderstood
) are

you sure?

that you didn't mean that thing?
When nothing in life or reality
has ever made near that much sense to me

I swore
you were a genius, with
my best interests at heart
and I counted myself blessed,
in a universe

that had fallen into place, but

can just as easily fall apart:
it was only a work of art

my mind (or heart, or soul)
had sculpted

truth or beauty, but
alas, not both

some form took shape upon your words
that the pure marble of your intent
never meant

these curves, I chipped, smoothed and polished
in an instant

and conceived
what I wanted to hear.
I have trespassed upon

you,

but I was
I swear,

completely sincere

for a minute
I thought

it
was
all so clear.

no reason

again and again I intend no offense
I'm telling you these things
because they make sense - to me,
they do - and for no other reason.
The ways I've gone wrong, I don't mind
if you see them. It all started out
in my childhood, now. We had neighbors
three doors down, a family - whose
father would die quite suddenly,
all the time, what a nuisance -
I learned nothing from them at
all. And from my own mother! She
often made things I don't like
to eat. This left upon me - not
scars, but a certain unwillingness
to mince words, or to lard or freight
them with "purpose." Things

should be said for no reason,

or not at all.

"so much better"

show me your eyes
don't you know what you want?
you don't have to try to convince me, if you don't
you don't have to lie, either way
just say you don't care
if I get up and jump out a window to leave you alone
you don't have to try
you don't have to give
but you'll lose it if
you don't make up your mind

and I know it doesn't matter what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better, if you'd stay

it's hard to explain
there I was just as happy as anyone
we were both just as happy as anyone
(till now)
(I thought)
and if I was wrong -
can't I try to make it up now?
why is it too late now?
tell me it's not too late
you don't have to lie
you don't have to care
but there's too much here
to throw it all away

and I know it doesn't matter what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better, if you'd stay

I feel like you're gone
like I can't do a thing
I guess I was wrong not to see this long ago
so how many times
(when you said that you loved me?)
tell me how long has it been, since you were sure?
you don't have to say
it won't matter now
you just have to do what it's best for you to do
you can just walk away
'cause I don't know how
I guess everything you never said
was true

and I know it doesn't matter
if you never let me know
and I won't try to make it better
if you're sure you want to go
and I know it doesn't matter
what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better,

if you'd stay

"Idle"

Darling, your mind
is the devil's workshop, let alone
"idle hands" that guy
was called "Light"
but you know what? you
could shed far more than he
pretended to. He Accused,
you only critiqued,
and complained
you could see What It Is
even though
you were pained, you
did not
cast the blame
upon some cosmic cause
"I can see," so you said
"It is good,"
There are laws.

If anyone thinks

If anyone thinks

I'm the indestructable
unwise
infallible
guardian of right,
able to slice and dice and justify, well
I just might

but, you'd be wrong
to think that of me. It's too high
an expectation.

If anyone thinks
I'm a real human being, and knows it, and I know it. If
that's what you think, if you know
(or think) I'm full of shit, well:
you'd be wrong. I just took a shit,
and that was all the shit I had on.

Or in me.

But if anyone thinks I think I am the shit,
or that my shit don't stink, or I think that it does
n't, well, I'll tell you what: mine is the scent
of the rose,
freshly fertilized. So strong, it grows. But *PHEW*
if anyone thinks
I'm better (or think that I'm better) then they are,
they are sadly

Mistaken. Or, if anyone thinks

that I think I am better
than anyone, I hope I am shot in the face
before that evaluation
can even take place.

Because: Opinions

are severable from people, people. Mine
are (to my mind) better than equal, better
than the ones
that I had before, but

against the world?

I am not keeping score. I

can be no better
than anything that's yours. Because if I was,
I am a piece of shit. Worse

than that. This is the place where I admit
I am smacked. If anyone thinks...

what is wrong
or
is right
or
whatever belongs
has anything to do with
what any other person has opinions of

or on

well, that's either wrong, or I guess
it's right

but I'm not the judge.

If anyone thinks

that I'm right...

...I wish I was.

If anyone thinks I'm wrong...

...I hope I learn.

If anyone thinks I am straight,

I hope I swerve.

If anyone thinks I'm damned,

I hope I burn.

At least enough

for me to learn why
they thought I deserved an eternity of earned
punishment. I

also hope they're wrong.

Not my call, but

the more I learn
I expect to be able to accept
all

of how
and why
and what.

Where do I...?!

Where do I get off
liking you so much, I don't
know you
know you
know I
do I?

know you at all,
no! I

do I?

I

feel like I do.

Do you?

There's no way
of asking this
is there

My life,
is the story
of that.

no one's breaking into my house

every day, I take precautions
and every night, I sleep
with weapons, and
no one's breaking in
to my house, I'm checking each
time, window, door
I am secure, verifiably
secure, and
can I call off the alert?
no one's stalking
no one's trying to prove me
wrong, kill me: a monster, no one's
trying anymore,

to protect the world
from me, with heroic measures
maybe
all of it was a joke
but how
do you trust a joke
from a monster
you cannot trust
when some one tells you, they
will slap your parents, show up

I

am a literalist, someone tells you
they may show up uninvited

one day, they will

it's insane to joke
about things that kill

the worst

I almost confessed to you
so many things that would have hurt me, forever
for you to know
you have know idea, how willing
was I
to spill everything out,
all the worst
that is in me
(cause it is)
with no lie
no conceal
no ulterior
I was at one
with the need to make sure
you knew exactly what you were getting
no false advertising
and

you know what?
you missed the moment
and I guess you will never know, but

I am still there.

Full disclosure

at will.

Well,

so what.

You would have found out, anyway
except you won't.

except

you

did.

model

None of what I know
about me helps. And
it sucks, because I
worked for forever
trying to find it
out. And it was

so much better

than when I didn't know myself
at all, or I thought so.

But it doesn't actually make a difference.

I've built
a ship in a bottle; perfect,
and becalmed.

"Think Too Much"

well the thoughts that I get
have been getting so hard to entertain
in the back of my head
your words are running circles around my brain
and I heard what you said
but it's making less sense to me each time
it plays back in my head
I hit play
pause
stop, rewind

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough

I'm not sure where we stand
but I'd like to get back to lying down
with you holding my hand
and the rest of my life all figured out
with our backs too the floor
asking all the right questions you'll ignore
with a turn of your head
your eyes
say:
it's all been said

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough
she thinks
I think too much
she says I'm too in love
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right

with that look on your face
- is there something inside you're holding back?
when you look into space
- are the aliens making eye contact?
are you reading my thought
am I thinking some thing I shouldn't ought to be
thinking at all?
and if so
well
who's responsible?

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough
she thinks
I think too much
she says I'm too in love
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right

please, some compassion for the insensitive

Some of us find
it's easy to see,
to foresee
to five see
to sixth sense it, some of us
have a seemingly preternatural zen
sense for others' hot buttons
and no-cross lines. How easy
life and human interaction
must seem, for those people

For those unfortunates among us, who
try as they might, are constantly told
they are tone-deaf to the infinitely
subtle, sprawling, intricate web of sensitivity,
woven in beautiful snarls from the threads
that each and every individual
differently spins out into the air
- and expects to see respected!
- for those who are not so blessed
with such fine-honed sense
of what is about to be taken askance, I
will make my plea now:

That compassion be extended.

Please,
have compassion for those who, this time around,
were not able to predict your particular sensitivity up-front.

So many suffer through life,
born through no fault of their own,
with no Spider-Sense that goes off clanging alarum
on anything that might trip or set off
the jangling sensitivities of this
or that specific other person. Life
can be very hard for these,
the sensitivity-impaired. Many of them
are honestly and sincerely, compassionate individuals
- who try hard, often, hard as fuck,
and who would and do hate to cause
hurt, harm, or upset, and who every time
it happens every damn time, it happens and I
am left wringing my hands after, helplessly
they, I mean, are left wringing their hearts and heads, trying
to figure out how
to see it coming next time
And coming up empty,
blindsided again. When you find yourself

in a world where so many
people's taboos and sensitivities
strike you as impossible
to predict or even to understand, sometimes
the only possible solution you come up with is:

to shut the hell up already.

ahead, on-balance

the universe is a gift too good to send back.
Which is good
because customer service is sacked, you lost
the receipt, and it was free admission
to begin with, jack.

Life:
a great deal!

It's true
it doesn't always work out for everybody.
Plenty of times, not even for me. You know,
life is not just a great deal. It's a great deal
of pain

But you know what?

Fuck it. Right?

The pattern so far,
I come through scathed,
pounded, broken and eventually saved,
rescued, by the proper authorities or
some kind soul. And what's on the other side,
long before the healing begins, torn and aching
and bandaged or maybe just, bleeding from a wound
in one's pride - once you've come through
the immediate threat of death, what is
on the other side is worth
getting over it for.

After enough broken skin and bones, you begin
to think you have a charmed life. The reminders strike
you as talismans.

I kind of like the shiny pink streaks of skin,
where the low volcano mountain range of scabs
falls away.

I like that they last a long while, then fade.

I'm really quite fond of nature red in tooth and claw.
Food poisoning? So fucking what? I'm having some more
scallops.

Germs, they have to eat and fuck, too. I expect I'll die
in writhing agony, one of these days. I might luck out,
but...whether I do or not, I still say: life
is a bargain.

A great fucking deal. No doubt.

If I were an atheist, I'd say the same damn
thing. Damn. Either way:

I paid nothing to get in. And most of it - especially
the literature and the museums! - it's enough to blow
your fucking mind, let alone rock and roll

Do you realize that when they let me in the door,
that was my pre-ticket ticket to potentially,
every rock show going? It's a dilemma,
just to orchestrate the logistics
of which ones you can fit in. Fuck.

After all's send and done, I hope
I don't "bitch out" later. Start
whining. It'd be pretty churlish,
pretty childish, when everything
up to that moment was free, to complain

about the occasional rifle bullet

exiting my skull

letting out my brain

certain logic

There's a certain logic
to what you don't.

You've never been one to forge a chain, but

link by link,
so absently,

you're binding me fast, with nothing
that we

can ascertain.

part of my faith

I lost part of my faith
but it's okay
I know where it is, if I'm ever that safe
if I'm ever that dumb, if I'm ever
that slow

it's behind me right now
catching up to me

GO

No Misanthrope

Sometimes I dress in black.
Sometimes I hate the world
Sometimes it touches me
in ways I don't deserve
keep your labels off of me
you don't have the first idea
any box you put me in
will be completely empty
I'm
all
right

I'm no misanthrope

I love life

I'm no misanthrope

people are fine

I'm no misanthrope,

I just don't like
you.

Sometimes I hate myself
I still think I'm okay
I get self-critical
it's probably not a phase
keep your feelings off of me
you don't have the worst idea
thank you for the shoulder
in my face that's snot
it's not tears
I'm
all
right

I'm no misanthrope

I love life

I'm no misanthrope

people are fine

I'm no misanthrope,

I just don't like
you.

No I don't like your hat
No I don't like your shoes
And everything between
's a tool that I can't use
Any box you put me in
will be completely empty
but if you draw a line around
me where I stand, please look. See:
I'm
all
right

I'm no misanthrope

I love life

I'm no misanthrope

people are fine

I'm no misanthrope,

I just don't like
you.

And I don't care what lines you see

I can't talk long

I can only talk to you for an hour
two at the most
there's a terrible lot of housework I've been trying to put off
I must get to it, more or less-immediately,
but
I can take a break for a moment, before I begin
to talk to you forever
again,

if I can

some other fate

can't help but wonder what it would all be like
if things had all been different
if everything had all gone down
in a different way -

would things still have turned out the same?

I can't help but think
things might be changed. I can't help but dwell
on all the ways

and what would have happened
to you and me?

or would it have all just ended up
like we did
like it was
I wish I could say "we'll see," but
of course we won't.

Maybe everything was all just supposed
to turn out
like it did

like it does

as if pre-arranged. but
if everything were different, leading up
like if we were both bananas, or
feet; feet with human hearts
and souls - you a right foot, me a left -
like Montagues and Capulets,
foredoomed to a love that everyone hates
well, even with just that little change, up front
it's so clear it could never unfold the same way

to change just one thing, changes everything else
to some other fate

but it hardly helps.

when i was a kid

when i was a kid,
my brother had a poster on the wall
of everything

I would look at it all day
and not figure it out
maybe so there'd be something left
to try to figure out

when he left home,
the poster stayed
it wasn't my room anymore
it wasn't my room anymore, but
I stayed a few years, and then I
left a few years

when I came back,
the whole wall was empty,
and painted gray

I'd prefer a society in which

I'd prefer a society in which
people were made of luminous light and sound
and sense, singing in overlapping tones
of metal, gold, and chrome; wings
spread gauzily, our edgefeathers mingled
at the tips, as we all revolve
in infinitely concentric circles
turning in upon the ringing, shining,
singing source of all of us, of which
all the beauties from which we are formed
are merely the sheerest echoes.

FACT

I'm probably completely wrong AGAIN, but I think what you meant
but I think what you meant is I take what is just plain fact
and I give it the status (in my eyes) of opinion.

and it doesn't matter what we both think "opinion" means
because fact is fact, there is no in-between state where
ever the twain should meet, as if one

that is my opinion
that is my
opinion

I'm so this

I'm so wish I'm TRUE
I'm so indefinite I'm YOU
I'm so miss it HITS
I'm so shit that it STICKS
I'm so sweet to the CORE
sticky apple juice BLEEDS
and you can't stop BITING
'til you're choking on SEEDS, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, and there's a difference in fact

I'm so peace, it's DISTURBING
so calm, it's unnerving
I'm so mean I mean it all
(and every word, undeserving
from some standpoints, I'm sure)
but I've got so many more
if we need to go another -
let's by all means go YOURS, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, it's just as simple as fact,
I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I'm so this
I'm THAT, I take it forward not back

conquistadore

I claim this territory in the name of Spain
I plant my flag,
and I take your name in the book of all Names
for the one I love
and the truth is,
it does mean too much to me.
but that's better than not enough

fetish

I have the fetish where I need
to give more than I have in me
to get anything out of it at all,
and there's nothing to hold back anyway
because you don't regret
anything except what you don't give.
The harder the lessons can be this time
just means the less likely I'll be
to learn them - if I
can keep out of wisdom long enough,
eventually the dice
will land with the right number of dots facing up, and
I will be set up sweet
having preserved my ability to put everything absolutely I have
into the throw.

Except this table is crap, miles long,
and at such a step grade the dice will probably
never actually come to a stop, and
I am sure all the bets made
must have slid off.

That's how I like it, though. I am no gambler
- and it is not a gamble
when you know there is no chance.

There is no chance involved.

I have the pretty sick fetish
where to this day, I want you
to be happy with what you are doing
and what you have done, and
I explain how. I tell you how
it was not a mistake, and
I'm telling the truth, but
lord
I wish somehow that I was not. Because

if only the truth were not true,

maybe I could tell you what I wish was.

thoughts on suicide

I don't think it's self-hate at all

or

maybe it is, sometimes - okay,

but not always.


You could love yourself
so much, and know
what you're worth - so
much
and more, but


if every day
is another lash
that you know for a fact
you did not deserve, and a burden to lift
that you know you can't

- it isn't self-hate
that makes you burst

when your heart, which has seen you through
so much, to the person you hoped
you could be - you are
that person.

And that person isn't enough.

just another step further, is miles
too far

When that's where you stand,
there's barely a chance
to be able to shake your head, wait
ask: "maybe it's not that I'm wrong, not strong
enough - is the problem
this path

that I'm on?"

please repeat

she said you can't get any truth
except for what you make up
and I've taken her word, not in vain
like her
but in bright, deadly earnest
like me
and everything
that I've needed to hear,
I have heard.

"the saddest math"

The object of all
of both your hopes,
intentions, and lives
has been put on the block
it was worth far too much
to afford it now. So it has
to be sold.

- and the proceeds, split,
so you both walk away
with something to show
for what was put in
to it.

What you each had to bring,
you both brought every bit.
Every bit of it changed into just
one thing:

The rest of your life

came at too high a cost, so now
you're converting it back
at a loss

and you'll both walk away
with a thorough and fair
accounting done. You do not
part friends. The rest of your lives

you will both know the price
that was too much to spend.

the suddenness

the suddenness
of catastrophe is what comforts us. We cannot see
it, a long way off. We get used to life, to how it runs.
Every day goes by, and we've learned to adjust
to being this close to able to trust.
We're at home, we can handle it well enough
every day goes by, 'til the one

All at once:

your job is lost
your car has
irrevocably died,
the woman you love
is seeing yet another guy
and the chance of getting back
any piece of the peace of mind
that you had when you woke
up,

is Spock odds, basically. Catastrophe
was always coming down on you, one
two,
three,

but for all you knew, for so many steps
on such a long way things were easy
and sweet, and

would
continue

to

be.

let's sing the blues

let's sing the blues
just me and you, while a dying man
plays guitar.

And it sounds -
so sweet, like the worst defeat
you could suffer and still remain who you are

or a little bit worse than that, in fact -
you admit, as you take just a few things back

- you work the loss into your voice, in the words
and you raise it all up, throat tight,
then slack

we are sweet and slurred
and we sing 'til our throats
fill up with ache, as plaintive as the world
we can hear it turn on its axis of prayers
every heart bled out now, too much to care

it's too much to take

except yours and mine.
This is punishment now, which is fine
by us. We have so much rope

we have given ourselves

such a beautiful song, here
beyond all hope.

"weaver"

when I think of what it takes
to weave anything that holds
in this pull-apart world
full of souls born sold
well I wish I had that skill
in my fingers or heart
to take separate, aching strands
and make them one, with art

suspense

I'm a voracious reader of the same three books
and the plot twists never fail to snare
and hook, and draw me in. Like I can't remember how
it is all going to end
when I start it over now, page 1,
again.

next chance I get

not sure when that would be,
exactly

but I believe: you plant a hard-thrown dart
smack dab in the middle of a shape drawn on the future:
it's called picking a place you want to be.

And to begin with, the shape corresponds to a set of lines
on that map of where you want to get to. And
where the will is good, well the lines on any map
where you've sunk your tack
will begin to dance and wiggle a bit,
and by and by reshape
into a square on a calendar.

Or so I faithfully
believe.

whatever it was...?

whatever it was
she accused me of,
if I could do it to you
it would be worth the fuss
to put all of my powers into
the field, and encapture you in
one leap, one
yield.

served cold

all the missed chances
I ever had
in my life
I passed them
all up, because of
what? something better
that I had to do
to be worthy of you? To be
worthy of you? No, not really
worthy of you. Just
trying to be not
worthless in general,
not worthless
as me, trying to not be
something
of no value or use to anyone else,
because
of the way it makes decisions.
You know?
Because how it makes and justifies
one decision
is going to be how it goes.

And every one
of those missed chances, miss,
I am glad I decided just
as I did.

Except for one.
Somehow, I misjudged
what was at stake

and

what I would become. And against
all hope, all odds, regret
comes way too late, as it very always
does.

But I guess, if out of all
the missed chances in my life, if I only want back
just one, well

maybe I am doing ok on balance. And need
to shut up, and pretend I have
no regrets, and say that
it's all for the best, take a dose
of whatever medicine gets the healing done,
the swelling down around the heart, and kills
the cold clammy sweats that have you gasping
with chills, bolt-upright in bed
at every hour of night,
in distress -

because you can not cannot can not see how you got it wrong,

and you can't pretend that everything you want

was a guess.

beautiful view

you've got a beautiful view
you should open your eyes
better open your eyes,
'cause it's slipping away
in front of your face
as the sun's going down
in this shade-darkened room
of the emptiest house, you stood fast
by the sink, you had lost
all your thought
down the drain,
with the soap
and the water
and blood

if you opened your eyes
you could see yourself, now

the most beautiful thing
that the world's ever seen

if you borrowed my eyes,
that is just what you'd see

somehow.

but my eyes
have gone far, far away
boring into a glass of their own
broken thoughts
in fluorescent-lit ache
laying bare to the core
a soul with its windows
blown out

perfectionism's

Perfectionist is certainly
one thing I ain't! I like
to throw paint, and have it
land where it goes. But somehow
the results comes out impeccable,
though. I once had an art critic
try to buy my clothes, just
from how I'd let the paint
speckle itself on. Perfectionism's

trying too hard,

past done.

self convinced

I'd love to fall
for a girl like you, but
there aren't any girls
like you to love
aren't any places like you
to fall
aren't any ways we could go
but once

and everything we've learned
has been confirmed
not only once, but twice
or more. There aren't
any times

like we used to have,
and there weren't at
the time. We know now,

for sure

Kathleen.

it's only the fact
that you used to pop up
in my window, surprise!
You would brighten my days. And
that keeps you in me. And
in memory, and - in that memory,
you, and your smile and eyes

keep me always amazed.

but you'll never see this.
For no purpose at all,
no ulterior hint
I set thought of you down
of your eyes, and that smile

How artistically pure of me! How
infantile. Not a motive in mind.

You will never know me. And
you'll never see this, and
and all such things are fine.

For your eyes, and your smile
might have just as well frowned
if the beauty you make
- without motive or thought,
just surprising us all -
isn't worth setting down.

"Ceremonial"

here

we are

and we're ready

to begin the act, the stage

is set

there's no hurry,

and no turning back, you know

your role - but you tremble

'cause it means so much to you, to make it great

make every gesture captivate

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it could mean anything

fake

rehearsed

artificial - such is life, but it means

everything

you put into

on performance night, you catch

your breath

and leap outward - it's a leap of faith

you trust yourself to make

your instinct says it's no mistake

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can sink in it, like quicksand
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
it doesn't mean anything

when the curtain falls, and darkness draws around

you

to a crash of applause - you left the audience

all dumbfounded

and your curtain calls, could have gone on and on, for hours and hours

but,
you

steal

away, with red hearts bunched in tight bouquets


lose

the wardrobe, and make up

and go natural,

you step

with command - into spotlight

without self-control, you know

what's next

isn't scripted, but you have the words by heart

by heart

the house lights fading into dark

it's ceremonial
like a rain cloud
ceremonial,
like a wolf's howl
ceremonial
like a slow dance
you can breathe it in, like incense
ceremonial
like a moonbeam
ceremonial
like a love scene
ceremonial
like a vivid dream
and it means everything

unsupported

nothing is under the stars
but us
our faith in the ground
can't hold us up
our particles fall

through all points between

not from what we are, but
by what we mean

"3 Wishes"

If some genie in a bottle told me I could speak my mind
and he said I could have everything if I just asked him right
well I don't need
no lottery, if you're not mine!
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

for the first wish,
I would get to MEET YOU!!!
AGAINST YOUR WILL!!!!!?!?!!
but you'd look at me ...
and you'd kinda like it

and we'd go on a date, and you would hate all my opinions
but you'd keep it to yourself, and you'd wonder what
came over you, but
I
won't
tell!

If some demon in a bottle said I had three souls to sell,
and that all of them were mine, and none would have to go to hell
well I believe
I've already made up my mind!
if I had 3 wishes I would wish for you,
three times

for the second wish, I would buy you lots of
FANCY CLOTHES
and you'd look at me -
and you'd kinda like it

then you'd put them on, parade around
in public by my side
and you'd wonder what came over you, but
you
won't
mind!

If some jesus in a bible said he'd heed my every prayer
if I only asked for him by name, he'd kick it straight upstairs
well I don't need
predestiny, if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

if I had 3 wishes, I would wish for you -
three times

For the third wish
you'd take all your CLOTHES OFF
and DANCE AROUND!!
and you'd look it me,
and I'd kinda like it

then we'd go to the church, and we would get MARRIED
and you'd love me A LOT
'cause I love you so profoundly, you'd
be like:
"this dude's
SO HOT."

If some genie in a bottle told me I could speak my mind,
and he said I could have everything if I just asked him right
well I don't need
too much world peace, if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

no I don't need
nothing, you see - if you're not mine
if I had 3 wishes, I
would wish for you
three times

if I had 3 wishes, I would wish for you -
three times