| I'm waking up |
| I pour the coffee in the one mug that you love |
| The New York Times Connection's truly |
| Quite a Doozy, so I give up |
| I found a bug |
| Who rents a flat under the strings I like to strum |
| Who sings along when I start playin' |
| Oh, what's bug sayin' in that tiny microphone? |
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| How about love is real, where does it go from here? |
| Don't let it disappear, always remember |
| Something changed, but if you turn the page |
| Love is an open range, always forever |
|
| I rest my head |
| Blow out the candles flickering next to my bed |
| But I can't catiate the feeling |
| Of easiness leaving, so I give up |
| Slow down my heart |
| So little keeping me from ripping it apart |
| Moon Men keep flipping me the bird |
| When it gets dark, down here on Earth |
|
| But Moon Men aren't real |
| I still can't help but feel |
|
| Love is real, where does it go from here? |
| Don't let it disappear, always remember |
| Something changed, but if you turn the page |
| Love is an open range, always forever |
|
| I'm waking up |
| I pour the coffee in the one mug that you loved |
| I hold the home of that ol' bug |
| Who said its singing days were gone |
|