Embracing sweetly on the side
All mingled lips and limbs amidst a mist becalm
But bent betwixt our beating breasts
I always get the 4th arm
That losing hand I have to fold
When by mistake I poke her face I mean no harm
Let's shuffle off this coital maul
'Cos I always get the 4th...
The 4th arm, there's no place for it
The 4th arm, you can't avoid it
It's always awkward, that's part of its charm
As sure as 4 is 2 and 2 it's true
There'll always be a 4th arm
The 1st arm likes to play around
The 2nd arm is free to roam from head to toe
The 3rd arm sneaks beneath the neck
But the 4th arm has no place to go
It may be crushed by writhing ribs
Or jutting upward like a wilting potted palm
Vestigial like Skippy's paw
'Cos I always get the 4th arm
She gets the phone when it rings late at night
I get the blinds when the morning's too bright
In Squatter, she always gets her favorite farm
And while we take turns on the tea and toast, I always get the 4th arm
A grumbling gut provokes debate
Proprioception sounds a tingling alarm
Confusing choosing whose is whose
But I always get the 4th arm
An amputee may have the edge
A phantom limb could snuggle in without a qualm
While I bemoan my flesh and bone
'Cos I always get the 4th...