Pilcher’s Flowers

Tell me what it is that makes you tick.
Would it make me sick?
Or, is it domestic.
Treat me nice and in a little while,
With a certain smile,
You’ll see my domicile.

When you don’t know what to say,
Pilcher’s flowers are on the way.
Oh.
Will she be out there calling your name?
(Whoa)
Will you be out there doing the same?
(Whoa)
Will she be out there calling your name?
(Whoa)
Will you be out there doing the same?

Open the trapdoor and let me in,
You’re hiding cinnamon,
Inside a bobby pin.
You may as well allow a little sin,
And when I’m feeling grim,
You are a vitamin.

When you don’t know what to say,
Pilcher’s flowers are on the way.
Oh.
Will she be out there calling your name?
(Whoa)
Will you be out there doing the same?
(Whoa)
Will she be out there calling your name?
(Whoa)
Will you be out there doing the same?

Crown the king and kill the visuals,
It’s such a little pill,
But could be overkill.
Mr. Owl ate my metal worm.
That is a palindrome,
So says my telephone.

When you don’t know what to say.
Pilcher’s flowers are on the way.
Oh.
Will she be out there calling your name?
(Whoa)
Will you be out there doing the same?
(Whoa)
Will she be out there calling your name?
(Whoa)
Will you be out there doing the same?