I add two and two, the most simple addition, then swear that the figures are lying. I'm a much better comic than mathematician, cause I'm better on stage than at intermission. And as far as the man is concerned, if I've been burned, I haven't learned. I know he's around when the sky and the ground startin' ringing. I know when he's near by the thunder I hear in advance. His words, and his words alone, are the words that can start my heart singing. And his is the only music that makes me dance. He'll sleep and he'll rise by the light of two eyes that adore him. Gore him at night, though he won't leave my sight for a glance. In every way, every day, I need less of myself and need more him, more him. Cause his is the only music that makes me dance. Cause his is the only music that makes me dance.