I got so fucking romantic
I apologize, let me light your cigarette
Come visit Kansas for a week of debauchery
Songs and high fives and weird sex
Cute thing
Don't be rude thing
Hot thing
It was nothing
God
Give me Frank Ocean's voice
And James Brown's stage presence
I will be your rock, God, when you're rolling the dice
♪
I got so fucking romantic
I apologize, let me smoke your weed, no wait
Healthy minds make sexy bodies
Let us touch so much of ourselves together
Cute thing (cute thing, cute thing)
Don't be rude thing (don't be rude, don't be rude thing)
Hot thing (hot thing, hot thing)
It was nothing (it was nothing, it was nothing)
Dog (ooh ooh)
Give me one little chance (ooh ooh)
I can make you a man (ooh ooh)
I will be your rock, dog, when you're rolling your eyes
(Ooh, ooh, ooh)
(Ooh, ooh, ooh)
(Ooh, ooh, ooh)
♪
(Do do do, do do do, do do)
(Do do do, do do do, do do)
(Do do do, do do do, do do)
(Do do do, do do do, do do)
He died in an explosion
Of mixed media and poorly written reviews
And some stammering drunk who tried to tell him how good his shit was
"That's- that's, ah- that's- that's some good- good shit, man"
I accidentally spoke his first name aloud
Trying to make it fit in with the lyrics of "Ana Ng"
Worked like a charm
We're getting old
When will we walk in each other's majestic presence?
Listen, hear my words
They're the ones you would think I would say if I was John Linnell
Or trying to be John Linnell
I am love
I am love
I would sleep naked
Next to you naked
I am love
I am love
I would sleep naked
Next to you naked
I am love
I am love
Like some excommunicated priest
Casting demons, asked one what its name was