There are times when I can get me so down

As I’m travelling on the streets of this town

And it don’t take nothing, not a smile or a frown

To bring me back to that place



And I’ll either recover, or snap me clean through

With a smile or a frown…created by you

Respectively – you don’t think that that’s true

But it all comes down to your face



You can imagine what a comfort and joy that it was

When you said, “come on in busy bee, buzz buzz”

Come on in, as you are, take some nectar, fly far,

Let me give of myself, fill your amber-gold jar



But the sweet nectar, being considered a drug,

Has been withheld -in its place a small mug

Of vitamins, minerals, some words, and a tug

But I fall fast and frantic, framing the scar



So it’s back to the fields with the flowers I roam

Back to my drunken dance all the way home

Back to the amber-gold nectar, shalom!

I’m stuck once again in the foam.