You Are A Golden God

Just last week, your mother called me, asking for my taste in clothing.
She was down at the outlet store, buying me a brand new t-shirt.
She told me her theories on life and I wanted to cry.
Why is she wanting to die? Why is she wanting to cry?
When she's got you?
Just last week, your father called me. Said we promptly must meet at Denny's.
All I could think about was black molasses and the foggy lenses on his eyeglasses.
He told me his theories on life and I wanted to cry.
Why is he wanting to die? What kind of thorn's in his side?
So I said to him:

Hey, Mr. Samuelson, you've got a lovely daughter.
Yes, she shines for you. You've got a lovely daughter.
Mr. Samuelson, you've got a lovely daughter.
And you are a golden god!

Yesterday, you're mother called me, asking for my taste in clothing.
She was down at the outlet store buying me another t-shirt.
She told me her theories on life and I wated to cry.
She's no longer wanting to die. In fact, they are living whole new lives.
So I said to her: Cheer up!

Hey, Mrs. Samuelson, you've got a lovely daughter.
Yes, she shines for you. You've got a lovely daughter.
Mrs. Samuelson, you've got a lovely daughter.
And you are a golden god!
You are a golden god!