You're poked you're lost you're tired again
it's the cold it's the frost
I'm lying my friend
Actually I'm warm lyin in my bed
in the best of form just restin' my head
these forms of life that surround us now
the sweetness the strife the short and the tall
the bitter and the sweet the stuff that makes us tick..
untidy yet neat, I don't wanna seem too slick..