Love Is... (live) Lyrics & Chords By Bo Burnham

Uhm, so this next song is about love, appropriately.

I love you like kings love queens,
Like a gay geneticist loves designer genes [jeans].
I need you like New Orleans needs a drought,
Like Hitler's father needed to learn to pull out.

And I want you, yeah,
Like a lawyer-slash-mathematician wants some kind of proof.
And I want you, yeah,
Like JFK wanted
A car with a roof.

Because love is taking that dive,
Then getting really comfortable and peeing in the pool.
And love is a real-life porn,
Minus all the stuff that makes porn cool.

And love is a homeless guy, searching for treasure in the middle of the rain and,
Finding a bag of gold coins and slowly finding out they're all filled with chocolate and,
Even though he's heart broken, he can't complain 'cause he was hungry in the first place.

Because I love you like Dora loves maps,
Like the Pope's toilet loves holy craps. (Just's a little one.)
I need you like a voyeur needs a branch,
Like boys tossing salad need a little bit of Neverland Ranch.

And I want you, yeah,
Like all the gothic kids that look exactly the same never want to conform.
And I want you like Anne Frank wanted
Nobody to read her fucking diary.
'Cause a diary is a collection of secret things that no one's supposed to read, that's the whole point of a diary. Millions of people that breached this little girl's privacy after she was chased by Nazis; kick her while she's down.

And if we met in 10,000 BC,
I was your caveman, you's my cavelady.

If we got hot, we'd start rubbing,
If we got hungry, we'd go clubbing.
There's woolly mammoths, but I will protect us,
You're making me devolve to a homo erectus, mothafucker.

And if we met in 1780,
I was a white southern aristocratic plantation owner and you were my dark-skinned servant lady...slave.
Whenever I could get away from the missus,
I go to your shed and then I'd steal you kisses.
But let's be serious, I'd still work you full-time as a slave, there's a difference between romantic language and a complete disregard for socio-economic trends.

And if we met in 1941,
I was a Nazi, you's a Gypsy on the run (That's a little redundant).
That... probably wouldn't have worked out.

Because...
Love is your favorite food for every breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
And love is the Holocaust, 'cept you don't die quick and you don't get thinner.
And love is being the owner of the company that makes rape whistles,
And even though you started the company with good intentions trying to reduce the rate of rape,
Now you don't want to reduce it at all cause if the rape rate declines, you'll see an equal decline in whistle sales.
Without rapists, who's gonna buy your whistles?

Yeah, love is all about...
Whistles. Thank you.

[Talking to Audience]
Uh, that one was a bit vulgar, but uh, you know, dicks and vaginas are sorta like Coke and Pepsi, you know? Ah, I strongly prefer one, but my dad thinks they taste the same.