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In the bar light, see the bees.
See those little locksmiths with their clever keys.
Hung from chains so low to knock their knees.

Swoop their perfect calves,
and the rubble of their shins.
Their little muscles strained
To push the needles in.

See the bees.
Low flyer bees,
Low rider bees
And their shiny locksmith keys.

You can tell them by their legs
That wobble with consideration
And move like sugar pegs
Escaping condensation.

See the bees
See the bees
And their clever locksmith keys.

Words to call forth flowers,
And meth them with a tune.
Stunning little prowlers
That make their sad prey swoon.

In the bar lights, see the bees.
They smile and they tease.
See the little locksmiths
And their clever locksmith keys.