I like a warm embrace
I like a pretty face
The smell of lemon, thyme, ginger, rosemary
Ah, my favorite things
I line ‘em up

I put ‘em all down upon a shelf
I watch them all collect dust
I lose my touch again
Don´t quote me, I´m just a bad poet

I can´t fly
I can´t walk
I can´t swim
I can´t talk
I can´t sing
I can´t dance
I can´t rap
I can´t jam

But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphors
I think up things you never ever heard before
I can see an idea that´s been around a corner hiding

Useful to attentive listeners
Borderline exciting

The best day of your life
It has come and gone
The bags under your eyes, too big for carry-on
I´m a tired boy, an empty void
A favorite song to sing along
I get along with everyone
I have a good time whenever I go out
But don´t quote me, I´m just a bad poet

I can´t fight
I can´t pray
I can´t riot
I can´t obey
I can´t see
I can´t preach

I can´t wake up
I can´t sleep

But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphors
I think up things you never ever heard before
I can see an idea that´s been around a corner hiding
Useful to attentive listeners
Borderline exciting
Ooh, it wears off after a day or two
Or gets absorbed into collective conscience
Added to a big pile
Or more like a hole that´s mined
From time to time to verify one has a soul
But uh

I can´t act
I can´t paint

I can´t teach
I can´t bank
I can´t laugh
I can´t dream
I can´t find the god damn things