I'm made up of instincts, None of which are too keen. But i get by with these high cheek bones, Little faith in people, Or a higher being. I'm a man with desires And if I told you any different, I'd be a liar. As hard as I've tried I've found I can't deny myself those things that I want. As last night turns into this morning, Buried in your blankets, left for dead, My heart beating in my head. I lie still, pretending i'm asleep. And I watch you put your clothes on for me, A local pharmacist and his wife, And I'm convinced after your performance That this world is too big for us, And our stupid instincts, And our stupid desires.