Ready to go? (Oh) Ready or not I asked you what you did today But you snap at everything I say Ready to go? (Oh) Ready or not I try to help you through your fears But you mix drinks with ten-proof tears Ready to go? (Oh) Ready or not Ready to cry A lot When I talk to you I can't tell what's diseased and what's your heart Yeah, talking to you is like walking through a modern art gallery And I don't want to sit on the art I don't want to sit on the art ♪ I love you to death (oh) No strings attached Except for this one dangling thread That wants to pump you full of lead Whatever, my love (oh) We're a perfect match 'Cause you're incomprehensible And I'm so fucking sensible I'll cook your meals (oh) I'll make your bed I'll figure out What the hell's wrong with your head When I talk to you I can't tell what's diseased and what's your heart Yeah, talking to you is like walking through a modern art gallery And I don't want to sit on the art I don't want to sit on the art You say, "Don't try to change me" I say, "Then do it yourself" You say, "You will estrange me" But you are so strange And you are deranged And I am good for your health Your health Your health We go to the new Mark Rothko show And you cry because you'd rather see Miro And I cry because I don't know what to say And I like people more than paintings anyway I think I like people more than paintings any day I used to think you made the richest, deepest blue But right now Rothko makes a Rockwell out of you Right now Rothko makes a Rockwell out of you When I talk to you I can't discern your fears from your joys Yeah, talking to you is like walking through a modern art gallery And it may be confusing But you're no Joseph Beuys