Do you like to watch me write
Wonder where I get insight
Did it give you such a fright
That you backed away despite
What you felt upon first sight
Do you know I feel that too
'Bout the music made by you
And the things that you can do
In your smiling styling mood
'Cause when I pick up my uke
I'm an incompetent boob
But I think we're equals still
At our own respective skills
With your might and with my will
We could go in for the kill
