Tried to see you yesterday

I had so many things I wanted to say

Yet when knocked your mother answered the door

Said I can see you no more.



Why? I asked her politely

You're not her type, she said, you're too carefree

So take your bunch of wild petunias and go

We don't want you here no more



Now why does it always have to be me

Who gets picked upon just like three

Daisies in a jam jar looking bored

Or three Spanish bullfighters

That have just been gored



Why don't you try helping me

By telling your mother how charming I can be

And maybe the next time that I knock on your door

She won't send me away no more.