I got a shiver down my back,
looking at him
on the other side of the doorway -
it's just my mind
telling my body
that he wants to fuck me.

I watch his hands shake
as he drinks
rum and coke, his favorite -
Must be his mind
telling his hand
how badly he wants me.

Science
gets rid of the romance,
but it can't rid us of the feeling.
And our minds play dirty tricks,
telling us it's love that gets the heart beating.
You can study all the psychology,
you can practice medicine all you want,
but if you're human,
if you've got muscle, and bone, and skin,
there's going to be something
that can dig itself in.

He kisses me on the neck,
I convulse,
and my body responds with a moan.
It's just my mind
telling my body
he's gonna undress me.

I hear him speak in my hair,
hear pretty words
that I have to ignore to stay sane.
Has to be his mind
telling him that's
how he'll get me.

Science
gets rid of the romance,
but it can't rid us of the feeling.
And our minds play dirty tricks,
telling us it's love that gets the heart beating.
You can study all the psychology,
you can practice medicine all you want,
but if you're human,
if you've got muscle, and bone, and skin,
there's going to be something
that can dig itself in.

We're all flesh, and bone,
and highly susceptible
to dreams, aspirations, and imagination.
We get lonely,
and we still try to fly.
Knives stick us,
and we go on while we're bleeding -
takes too long for us
to have the decency to die.
We live, we procreate,
we make up love, we make up hate.
And science,
that vessel of imagination
allows this foolishness
in the simple name of learnin',
for, without flesh,
without mind,
without creation or love,
what is the point of discovering its reason?