Oh boy, getting to the point is the one thing a woman has never learned.
A timeless art, so well-tuned, never stopping to resume.
Round the houses she goes, leaving the point behind.
Oh boy, oh boy, getting to the point,
Seems a never-ending exercise.
Ten, twenty minutes go by, you’re about to lose your mind,
Until that sacred word surfaces to where she decides to get back on track.
OH! Anyway
The word is music to my ears, has been throughout so many years
Oh! Anyway
Six letters long it snaps me back into reality,
Not letting on you want to break out with a song.
You drift off, ears half cocked, listening for that sacred six letter word,
It steals you back from a world of the absurd.
It’s a sacred gift passed on through time, from mothers and aunts,
To test a man’s patience, leaving no stone unturned.
It’s a pointless exercise I know.
One day I’ll be brave enough to give her back some of the same,
She’s only got herself to blame.
Anyway!
Ten, twenty minutes go by, you’re about to lose your mind,
Until that sacred word surfaces to where she decides to get back on track
OH! Anyway
The word is music to my ears, has been throughout so many years
Oh! Anyway
Six letters long it snaps me back into reality,
Not letting on you want to break out with a song.
My last say on the matter is clear,
You just want her to cut through the fuss, the roundabouts, the excursion to hell.
If I told her this, it’ll be the last story I tell.
Oh boy, oh boy,
Getting to the point, she’ll never disappoint.
03:032026
