I know that you're probably mad at me I've come to expect that You know that you'll never have all of me, you've come to resent that You say "tomato", I say "video games", you're acting so solemn You'll take the precious remote control from me Do I sound like Gollum? (It's) not that I'm escaping, you charm me like the flame does moths, it's just that you'd prefer me docile, like a narcoleptic sloth

The wizard needs food badly, the Voltron can't be incomplete The things I love, you hate so madly, I must not go down in defeat

In the hunter-gatherer societies, I'd bring home the bacon Public thought says men should try and be tame, stirred but not shaken I say "baseball" then you start to cry, I'm sorry I grieve you I think a motorcycle's a good way to die, this must bereave you I know that you try so hard, and I'm not saying it's a sin, it's just that they don't feel my pain, in Vogue or Cosmopolitan

And I'm sure you have your reasons, but listen to me please I want the GI Joe with the Kung-Fu action grip I want Nintendo with the extra-graphics-microchip Tackle football with rocks, and sticks, and knives, and pain I want a truck with the four wheel drive train You'd rather see me get good at bookkeepping, I could clean house in the time that I'm not sleeping I live to serve you, and I don't want to be rude, but you should see that the wizard needs food

Music: Dennis and Reese
Words: Reese