Oh my godnIs on the tablenAnd jars are opennBut now it’s spilling overnWould you grab the mobnAnd pick it upnIt’s timennI have to go to worknAnd it hurts my shoulder bladesnBut when you clean the floornMaybe I could love you morenOh…nnOh my godnIs on the tablenAnd crown our butternYou wrote your little letternI can read what it saysnIn your eyesnYou wrotennWhen you go to worknIt hurts my shoulder bladesnAnd when I’m on the floornI can’t love you morenOh…nnOh my godnPlease don’t go nAnd leave me on my ownnWhich would be forevernAnd now it’s overnnSo I’ll go to worknAnd it’ll hurt my shoulder bladesnBut when I hit the floornThen you’ll love me moren