She's an ocean No...she's a song She's the lotion I've been running through my hands Just like a grape stem Dripping on the vine She's a doorknob Take a turn And go
He lives in autumn With a leaf-drop He wears his headphones To drown out all the sound Come November He'll be dropping off his semen And tired of being alone again
Scarecrows and cornfields are wasting away Like a snowman basking in the sun Be sure to send a postcard if the seasons change Cause my own decreation gets me by
They've only met three times And each time it's a gas He keeps wishing her away She's an object She has a master She keeps wanting him to stay Dumb
