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