The Things You Say
There are a lot of things you say
Each and every day.
They're pretty and elegant,
Wishy, mushy and poignant.
You tell me how the force of your love
Can knock a comet back with a shove
You tell me how if your love ever fidget
With thoughts of being a mountain everest would become a midget
You tell me how your love would stay
Like a central theme, even when all chapters stray.
You tell me how the miners could bow and plough and allow profuse sweat on their brow,
But would never arrive at the depth of what you feel now.
But, sorry baby, I never understand
All these that you brand
All I ever know is how I'm loving your touch,
And our regular humping on the couch.
