It makes you blind, it does you in
|
It makes you think you're pretty tough
|
It makes you prone to crime and sin
|
It makes you say things off the cuff
|
It's very small and made of glass
|
and grossly over-advertised
|
It turns a genius to an ass
|
and makes a fool think he is wise
|
It could make you regret your birth
|
or turn cartwheels in your best suit
|
It costs a lot more than it's worth
|
and yet there is no substitute
|
They keep it on a higher shelf
|
the older and more pure it grows
|
It has no color in itself
|
but it can make you see rainbows
|
You can find it on the Bowery
|
or you can find it at Elaine's
|
It makes your words more flowery
|
It makes the sun shine, makes it rain
|
You just get out what they put in
|
and they never put in enough
|
Love is like a bottle of gin
|
but a bottle of gin is not like love
|
|
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|
Love Is Like a Bottle of Gin
|
| The Magnetic Fields |
