C
I've crushed cans, and I've crushed gravel,
FC
And I crushed Grandma's leg in the door of a cadillac,
(She walked with a limp but she learned her lesson)
C
Now I'm crushing on you babe,
FG
Like the grainy innards of a store-bought Hacky Sack.
(You know how a Hacky Sack has that cshh cshhh in it)
CF
I drunk a beverage with crushed ice, and it was nice,
G
But not nearly as nice as what one night with you might be like.
FC
I'd like to crush you, under the weight of my loooooove,
FG
Brushing up against you is like, touching an electric doooooove.
C
I've crushed dirt clods with my boots,
F
And boxes after I moved,
G
But what I wouldn't do for a 30 second convo with you.
C
I'd show you my collection of civil war prosthetics,
F
And tell you a secret and never regret it,
G
Like I've got a subdermal arm that the doctors can't explain.
(I think you might regret that)
CF
I'd take your hand and place it mine, not the subdermal one but the one outside,
G
And then give you a manicure, and grab the other hand, and start the process over again.
FC
I'd like to crush you, under the weight of my loooooove,
FG
Brushing up against you is like, touching an electric doooooove.
FC
I'd like to bulldoze the barriers between your heart and miiiiiine,
FG
I'd like to backhoe a ditch but call the gas company ahead of time.
FG
And by call the gas company, I mean call you (yeah),
C
What's your number?