The Mistress of Sarcasm and her boyfriend Mickey have just returned to Savannah after a not-quite-two-day visit here at Chez Elisson. It’s always a pleasure to have the Mistress around, and Mickey is a sharp-witted enough lad to keep up with her.
A few months ago, the Mistress wrote a song for Mickey, inspired by an article she read about the possible influence of neurochemicals on human emotions. She has given me permission to post it here. Now all I need is someone who can put it to music and I’m all set...
Lovesick
Oh, Mickey, you’re the one for me,
I can feel it in my heart.
Your love seems everpresent,
Even when I cut a fart.
You call me out on my neuroses
Every chance you get –
But then you’ll rock me in your arms,
And tell me not to fret.
They say that it’s all chemicals
That keep us as a pair.
Well, if it’s true that love’s a sickness,
I need intensive care.
You smoke too many cigarettes.
Your sweat smells like hot chrome.
But, lover, when I’m with you,
I just feel right at home.
Just like how scientists don’t know
Why galaxies collide,
It’s true that I have no idea
How you landed by my side.
All I know is that I’m grateful
To have my handsome Mick –
I really doubt it’s dopamine
That’s made me so lovesick.
They say that it’s all chemicals
That keep us as a pair.
Well, if it’s true that love’s a sickness,
I need intensive care.
They say that it’s all chemicals
That keep us as a pair.
Well, if it’s true that love’s a sickness,
I need intensive care.
Now, is she a Chip off the Old Block, or what? At least she didn’t rhyme “Mick” with “dick” - thank Gawd for small favors.
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