It can't all be wedding cake.

It's true what they say.

It really can't all be wedding cake. But there's a perfectly good explanation for it. If you're tempted to question my position, I'll hope you'll hang in for just a moment until you've heard it all.

Here goes.

She's so beautiful,
I can hardly stand it.
It's nearly painful.
The softness of her nature impresses me.
I think I'm jealous.
She loves so deeply and so hard--
it feels like a movie.
The lights are on.
She's got eyes like a hurricane
and hands like pudding.
My attention is diverted.
She's not mine.

It really can't all be wedding cake. There's got to be mud and rocks, and ice and rain, and can openers and socks. But it's all the same. The mud and the cake. It's all the same.