If I'd been a psychic
I'd jumped windows from joy
Shocking the old boys
If my day hadn't been off
I'd still be numbed out of lust
But now my vision has framed us
You're in my room frying bread
While I get mail from your kid
And you sing

Something in you strikes a match in me
Turning Bob into a choirboy
From my future memories
While my other ear is filled with pleas
Of preserving the family
Words like devil, lust and greed
But babe, I know we're proof
Of something right
They just can't see it

Jasmine Sensations could be
The name of the soap
I try to palm off on you
In order to unscrew the cork
You've got up your butt sometimes
But apart from that and the
Grumbling and the smoking
You're my human of them all
Pushing me gently through my walls
Singing:
Something in you strikes a match in me
Turning Bob into a choirboy
From my future memories
While my other ear is filled with pleas
Of preserving the family
Words like devil, lust and greed
Babe, I know we're
Proof of something good, at least
But they won't see it

And I can listen to
Their definitions of responsibility
Let them mind their own sore families
Ignoring domestic desease
Justified by religious and moral beliefs
Oh, let me see them save their own

'Cause there's something in you
That strikes a match in me
And now Bob will forever be a choirboy
From my future memories
While my other ear is filled with pleas of
Preserving the family
Words like devil, lust and greed
Two out of three don't apply to you and me
I follow what I see
Now I know what I was seeing