This morning, you were whistling while shaving, And it drove me crazy as my knock-out drops faded into a dream Of a thousand canaries engaged in one-upmanship. Cupids were noisy all day. They were wanting attention. And my gold tooth picked up signals from the frenzied radio station; Haywire salsa filled the room, foreign lingo wrestled with my tongue and won, And even my pulsebeat was unwelcome. I turned the ceiling fan off, And it was like the world tumbled down a staircase before it stopped, heavenly silent. Now, I put my head out the window so I can hear nothing for a while. You see me and you begin laughing. I'm wanting to hit you and wondering what sound that would make.