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 feuled by compassion
Comes to nooks and crannies, is bound for all stars
Chorus:
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
Chorus
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
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