Too many to count on my hands,
too many to have, too many to make
me happy, mad or sad.
Too many girls in the land, I don't
always understand.
But what's the world without them,
what's a nine out of ten; if this world isn't
truly complete without them?
Some as friends, not too many as lovers.
But so many who taught me how to be a
good hugger.
They give me fatigue,
they stick to my side like the flesh to my flesh,
bone to bone of those potentials to my Eve.
The sharpest memory, of when I do them wrong,
who had, to have me falling in love with them,
and a corny love song.
What's the world without them;
driving me crazy. But we also go crazy
for them.