This is the story of a poet I know
He takes it easy and he talks real slow
They call him lazy but when push comes to shove

Lazy goes crazy for a real hot love
Dirty jeans and a whisky pour, he whispers
“Quoth the raven, nevermore”
Hot Love’s on the barroom floor and the poet says, he say’s

Please don’t groove in the middle of my love connection
I’ve been waiting all night
Just move in this general direction

Hot love, sweet nectar above
She’s either queen of the mean
Or she’s sweet as a dove
Carefully choose all the words you say
And you’ll be getting hot love
In each and every way

Lazy knew what he had to do
But all the other poets were coming in too
The poet sat back with his whisky pour
And he said, he said

Please don’t groove in the middle of my love connection
I’ve been waiting all night
Just move in this general directio