So, pumpkin lover
Winter creeps
I cannot seem to find you anywhere my palms seem to land
And those rich jade and golden-red polish hands
While the women bundle up

But they don't seem fit
Oh I'm certain they are
Kindly would love me
And treat me nice

But I don't wanna hold their hand
And I don't want them in the bed
I don't want them in their beds
I just want my best friend

So, call me sick
But what's a boy supposed to do when he's thick-headed
And he only dreams in green
And red

And I want to hold your hand
And I want you in the bed
And I want you in my bed
I just want my best friend
Call your papa on the phone
Like father like son like dog like bone
I don't know if I'll leave this home

Call your papa on the phone
Like father like son like dog like bone
I don't know if I'll leave this home