If you think you’re just a singer/song writer, well you’ve forgotten that your alluring art scores the soundtrack of my melodramatic life
If you think you’re just one of few postmen or ladies, well remind you your my link to love-inked letters to my dearest lover
If you think you’re just a gasboy convenient store girl, don’t forget that your the stops to feeling full before going places man or woman’s never been before
If you think you’re just a baker, your half-baked chocolate croissant smacks my lips with a punch that knocks me off my high chair
If you think you’re just a short cup espresso maker, well you’ve sat me contemplating still, chin in hand, elbow rested on window sill
If you think you’re just one man or less of a woman, I invite you to tea to see that your an infinite matter to this limitless life.