You're So Basic

You're so basic, 'bout half my speed,
but that's the kind of change of pace that this boy needs,
for I'm manic, frantic, subject to panic,
feel the gravitational pull of the Atlantic.
But you're basic, honey, let's face it:
it came to you—you didn't have to chase it.
You're beatific, context-specific,
pulse with the ebb and the flow of the Pacific.
I shake like a tommy gun a-rat-ta-tat-ta-tat-ta-tattin',
rise and fall like the heat of Manhattan.
You're cool and smooth like a bucket of Crisco.
You undulate like the streets of San Francisco.
I met your father. He was such a hayseed
he makes Howdy Doody look like Lou Reed.
But he gave you everything that you need.
You might not be a blueblood but you're sure a true breed.
You look ragged with twice my style.
You've been put together by error and trial,
but there's no error in the glint of your smile.
A city boy can sense it from a country mile.
You know, people tell me that I'm high strung.
I've been that way since I was young.
Lived most of my life on the middle rung.
Most of my stones remain unslung.
David, Goliath, I am neither, more like Eddie Haskell from Leave it to Beaver,
pretty well-liked but mostly wrong.
But, you're basic. Might as well embrace it.
Before I even kissed you I could already taste it.
You got it. We want it. You know it. Why waste it?
When something's so close to nothing, nothing's going to erase it.
You look ragged with twice my style.
You've been put together by error and trial,
but there's no error in the glint of your smile.
A city boy can sense it from a country mile.