We share a culture same vernacular
  love of physical humor and time spent alone
  you with your penchant for spontaneous events
  for sticky and raspy, unearthed and then gone
  
  you are a gift promised sent with a wink
  with tendencies for conversations that raise bars
  you are a sage who is fueled by compassion
  comes to nooks and crannies, is bound for all stars
  
  you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
  you make the knees of my bees weak
  
  you are a spirit that knows of no limit
  that knows of no ceiling who baulks at dead-ends
  you are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers
  not seduced by illusions of fair-weather friends
  
  you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
  you make the knees of my bees weak
  
  you are a vision who lives by the signals of
  stomach and intuition as your guide
  you are a sliver of god on a platter
  who walks what he talks and who cops when he’s lied
  
  you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
  you make the knees of my bees weak
  you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
  you make the knees of my bees weak
  you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle
  you make the knees of my bees weak