I?m not a poet and I know it
There is no deep secret tossing inside me
I have no timing, I can?t form my feelings
Sometimes I rhyme, sometimes I don?t
So go ahead, take a look at my kitchen
Take a look at the woodgrain there
What?s it for? That hardwood floor
Is where I?m walkin? and thinkin?
Walkin? and thinkin? about you