The Poet [Can't Jam]

I like a warm embrace
 I like a pretty face
 The smell of lemon, thyme, ginger, rosemary
 Ah, my favorite things
 I line 'em up
 I put 'em all down upon a shelf
 I watch them all collect dust
 I lose my touch again
 Don't quote me, I'm just a bad poet
 I can't fly
 I can't walk
 I can't swim
 I can't talk
 I can't sing
 I can't dance
 I can't rap
 I can't jam
 But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphors
 I think up things you never ever heard before
 I can see an idea that's been around a corner hiding
 Useful to attentive listeners
 Borderline exciting
 The best day of your life
 It has come and gone
 The bags under your eyes, too big for carry-on
 I'm a tired boy, an empty void
 A favorite song to sing along
 I get along with everyone
 I have a good time whenever I go out
 But don't quote me, I'm just a bad poet
 I can't fight
 I can't pray
 I can't riot
 I can't obey
 I can't see
 I can't preach
 I can't wake up
 I can't sleep
 But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphors
 I think up things you never ever heard before
 I can see an idea that's been around a corner hiding
 Useful to attentive listeners
 Borderline exciting
 Ooh, it wears off after a day or two
 Or gets absorbed into collective conscience
 Added to a big pile
 Or more like a hole that's mined
 From time to time to verify one has a soul
 But uh
 I can't act
 I can't paint
 I can't teach
 I can't bank
 I can't laugh
 I can't dream
 I can't find the god damn things