We're lagging weakIn FloridaWhere blowers always hand in handThat boy like me, is he not I?And I, it is not IAnd I can not be seen plain to seeShe has my heart in troubleNo life I will, no libertyMy love is not the oneAnd often when the beatles comeThat lulled the youth to sleepI still in tears for a shielded loveAnd through that door in painWhen on the creaking ceilingShe spills the bough of wood and fireAn amazing soundWith wonder at allThat's what love has to do*
