We share a culture same vernacular
Love of physical humor and time spent alone
You with your penchant for spontaneous events

For sticky and raspy, unearthed and then gone

You are a gift promised sent with a wink

With tendencies for conversations that raise bars
You are a sage who is fueled by compassion
Comes to nooks and crannies, is bound for all stars


You make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
You make the knees of my bees weak


You are a spirit that knows of no limit
That knows of no ceiling who baulks at dead-ends

You are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers
Not seduced by illusions of fair-weather friends


You make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
You make the knees of my bees weak


You are a vision who lives by the signals of
Stomach and intuition as your guide
You are a sliver of god on a platter

Who walks what he talks and who cops when he's lied

You make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle

You make the knees of my bees weak
You make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
You make the knees of my bees weak

You make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
You make the knees of my bees weak