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