Ready to go? (Oh)
Ready or not
I asked you what you did today
But you snap at everything I say
Ready to go? (Oh)
Ready or not
I try to help you through your fears
But you mix drinks with ten-proof tears
Ready to go? (Oh)
Ready or not
Ready to cry
A lot
When I talk to you
I can't tell what's diseased and what's your heart
Yeah, talking to you is like walking through a modern art gallery
And I don't want to sit on the art
I don't want to sit on the art
♪
I love you to death (oh)
No strings attached
Except for this one dangling thread
That wants to pump you full of lead
Whatever, my love (oh)
We're a perfect match
'Cause you're incomprehensible
And I'm so fucking sensible
I'll cook your meals (oh)
I'll make your bed
I'll figure out
What the hell's wrong with your head
When I talk to you
I can't tell what's diseased and what's your heart
Yeah, talking to you is like walking through a modern art gallery
And I don't want to sit on the art
I don't want to sit on the art
You say, "Don't try to change me"
I say, "Then do it yourself"
You say, "You will estrange me"
But you are so strange
And you are deranged
And I am good for your health
Your health
Your health
We go to the new Mark Rothko show
And you cry because you'd rather see Miro
And I cry because I don't know what to say
And I like people more than paintings anyway
I think I like people more than paintings any day
I used to think you made the richest, deepest blue
But right now Rothko makes a Rockwell out of you
Right now Rothko makes a Rockwell out of you
When I talk to you I can't discern your fears from your joys
Yeah, talking to you is like walking through a modern art gallery
And it may be confusing
But you're no Joseph Beuys