Book of Rules

Don't write about camels asleep in the wind
 Or tiny bugs living in snow (in the Himalayas)
 Don't write about old folks or babies or ice cream
 Don't write about trees or the breeze or the asphalt
 Don't write in the bathroom
 Don't write in your sleep
 Don't write in the chicken coop
 Or in the middle of the street
 Don't write in the ice box and not by the telephone
 And leave the garden completely well alone
 If only you'd learn to write at a desk
 Where you wouldn't be making yourself such a pest
 Yourself such a pest
 Don't talk about mailmen you know who are crazy
 Don't know correlations that nobody told you
 Don't romance the bees or stir soup with someone's trees
 Don't cry "farewell Dr. Seuss" during lectures
 Don't sing in the elevator
 And don't talk to the halls
 No one will listen
 Not even the walls
 Don't question the book, it is written here look
 The sweetest persimmon has fangs
 Don't question the lawn mower or rebuttal the door opener
 Never get in a fight with a can opener
 In a fight with a can opener
 We walk into the Aeropuerto and shake like seeds
 Maybe you will spill the beans
 And tell me what you feel for me
 Night is bright and eyes are new, I've got a can of beans too
 Waiting to topple but nobodies got a can opener
 Nobodies got a can opener
 Don't write the book of rules
 Don't give it to fools, like me
 Just scream "I like you"
 When you're waiting at the ticket counter
 Waiting
 So now the plane takes you off
 I'm under, driving north
 Someone starts to spit and cough
 Could be the car, could be lost
 And somewhat neglected, jealousy is fast detected
 Don't say it, don't tell me, just break and I will understand
 So where is my book of rules
 Now that I can cry for you
 I can rewrite it now that I can cry but it's
 Bottled up like Aunt Jemima
 The famous face of no one knows you
 Here's the book, the pen in hand
 And no one's got a corkscrew
 No one's got a corkscrew
 No one's got a corkscrew
 Nobody