She’s beautiful in face and form, way above the norm
and in this cold world her words tumble out warm
I don’t want to die but in her eyes drown
I need her like make up needs the clown

Her loveliness invades me flower attacks the bee
She’s a temple and I am her devotee
Don’t want to be alone, want to be with her
Oh that I was the covers of her siddur

I feel hot and a lovely fever knowing she’s how a believer,
that we are two strands and G-d is the weaver
Her beauty it is given, given from above I am captivated by her love