He wakes before they do
Makes his way out to breakfast
Finds himself a nice nook and lies in the shade
The trees are conversing but you have to be quiet
If you want to discern what they have to say
Birds and bees are squawking
With tense and tired hands
But don't hold your hate against them
They're just doing the best that they can
He takes out a small boat
The one just for tuesdays
And paddles himself out to the middle of the bay
Collecting vibrations to spread over dry land
For each it'll (?) work in our own special way
Birds and bees are squawking
With tense and tired hands
But don't hold your hate against them
They're just doing the best that they can
He waits for his sweet one to come home from the factory
The humans need humans if they are to be free
And all he ever wanted was to get caffinated
Somewhere kinda swedish where no one else could see
And Ron Jon is wearing feathers
While Ferg is having tea
And Snitch is writing postcards
Be good now, Toby
Be good now, Toby