Every *** has its lid
Or at least that's what I've heard
like every car has it's driver
and every tree has it's bird

Oh how I've waited for mine
How I've pondered and schemed
While heart muscle beckons
and my patience grows lean

every year I get older
every year I grow sad
that my lid is still missing
or possibly dead

All my dreams are but windows
to things that aren't real
and yet I can't help but wonder
why I feel how I feel

Every *** has its lid
Like a drunk needs his ***
I hope it's tonight
when my lid finally comes