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 g.i. 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.