And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
Two little frogs in a luscious pond.
They don't know about nothing but their beau monde.
One of them is an MBA from Swamp University,
the other showing signs of immaturity.
A grasshopper one could say,
with little thoughts about tomorrow.
And the time she don't have
she'll find a way to borrow.
Dreaming of the past,
no plans of the future,
she believes that life should be
a dopy dance of cachucha.
From tadpole to girlfrog,
totally by her own,
so she lives for the company,
she can't be on her own.
But the smart one is good
at taking care of her needs,
while she teaches him things
on which one cannot read.
Matched to fit, thus,
would be a slight exaggeration
but otherwise would lead to
either one's suffocation.
Thus, even though their passion's on
the verge of stagnation,
love's a component in their
somewhat strange relation.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
Two little frogs,
unaware of the world.
He, high on hope,
her visions long furled.
Anyway, time passes by
and nothing really happens.
Just like any old frogs,
they just lay around dappin'.
The water's really chilly,
but together they stay warm.
Surrounding is the one thing which
they easily get conformed.
But she's the first one to feel
that something fishy's going on.
"I thought it was freezing,
but now that feeling's gone."
"You're just getting used," he said,
"you worry bout that oldwife,
and other things that might just
impose on our lives."
"I'm not concerned,
cus it really feels good,
and I'd make this place hotter
if only I could."
"And we handled the cold so we can
deal with the heat, I mean,
let's lose those moonboots,
cus they're now obsolete."
Two little frogs just dazing away.
To them it's getting warmer,
every day by day.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
"This is like a healthspa,
a lifebringing well," she says,
"life used to be lousy,
but now I feel swell."
A fish:
"I wish I could get out of this,
but I'm sorta' stuck.
I saw Duck fly away,
and he wished me best of luck."
But our frogs don't listen;
"Those trouts see only trouble"
("How hot is it now,
cus I thought I saw a bubble?")
Two little frogs lie belly up
in boiling water,
and they never know the difference
between "hot" and "hotter".
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
Two little frogs in a luscious pond.
They don't know about nothing but their beau monde.
One of them is an MBA from Swamp University,
the other showing signs of immaturity.
A grasshopper one could say,
with little thoughts about tomorrow.
And the time she don't have
she'll find a way to borrow.
Dreaming of the past,
no plans of the future,
she believes that life should be
a dopy dance of cachucha.
From tadpole to girlfrog,
totally by her own,
so she lives for the company,
she can't be on her own.
But the smart one is good
at taking care of her needs,
while she teaches him things
on which one cannot read.
Matched to fit, thus,
would be a slight exaggeration
but otherwise would lead to
either one's suffocation.
Thus, even though their passion's on
the verge of stagnation,
love's a component in their
somewhat strange relation.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
Two little frogs,
unaware of the world.
He, high on hope,
her visions long furled.
Anyway, time passes by
and nothing really happens.
Just like any old frogs,
they just lay around dappin'.
The water's really chilly,
but together they stay warm.
Surrounding is the one thing which
they easily get conformed.
But she's the first one to feel
that something fishy's going on.
"I thought it was freezing,
but now that feeling's gone."
"You're just getting used," he said,
"you worry bout that oldwife,
and other things that might just
impose on our lives."
"I'm not concerned,
cus it really feels good,
and I'd make this place hotter
if only I could."
"And we handled the cold so we can
deal with the heat, I mean,
let's lose those moonboots,
cus they're now obsolete."
Two little frogs just dazing away.
To them it's getting warmer,
every day by day.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
"This is like a healthspa,
a lifebringing well," she says,
"life used to be lousy,
but now I feel swell."
A fish:
"I wish I could get out of this,
but I'm sorta' stuck.
I saw Duck fly away,
and he wished me best of luck."
But our frogs don't listen;
"Those trouts see only trouble"
("How hot is it now,
cus I thought I saw a bubble?")
Two little frogs lie belly up
in boiling water,
and they never know the difference
between "hot" and "hotter".
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.
And the frogs are waiting,
not anticipating,
while they should be praying.