The sun is looking our way The breeze is picking up steam Your head is stapled to mine And right now things are pretty alright There's nothing that I want There's nothing that I need Nothing fits perfectly And right now things are pretty alright Right now things are pretty alright Fires die And the fire died Now we're middle-aged in a mall babe And it's not even a half-decent mall oh no In fact it's only redeemable quality is that the attached LCBO has affordable sized bottles of Knob Creek special select bourbon whiskey When I met you I was up on stage Oh yeah how I held your gaze Yeah yeah guess you held mine And right then things were pretty alright Or how about that afternoon I was practicing my porno tune You gave a smile as you left That made me feel like Myra Hess Dirty dirty Myra Hess Fires die And the fire has now died So this is a campfire song babe And we are the marshmallows now hey hey In the sense that it takes repeated penetrations of a various nature Into our soft gooey centres before we're willing to submerge ourselves Into the flames of submissive obedience And personal sacrifice behind mutual veils of strained compatibility Jack and Jill are throwing a do Guess we're going because we have to You'll talk to Jill And I'll talk to Jack And then we'll talk behind their backs And then things will be pretty alright Fires die But we could set the neighborhood alight babe A potluck past the cemetery gates hey hey Btw I've now lost any semblance of ordered intellectual terrain With which to align a set of loose mental wheels With oh baby baby dig the premise of a life with little to no effective free will And touch me touch me if your internal faculties order you to tonight And let's expedite procreation make a childish demonstration Or we could just go buy some of those squares you like and eat them on the couch