[Verse 1] [deadpan talk-sing, casual, clap-stomp groove] So I wrote y'all a love song, gave a speech about the house, about askin' 'fore you change it, real tender, real devout. Then it hit me 'round the bridge, lemme be honest with ya, friend: I have never owned a house. Or a fence. Or a weekend. Never burned a single supper, never slammed a screen door, never owned one Tuesday in my life, so what am I singin' for? [Chorus] [talk-sing, the hook lands wry and sticky] 'Cause what do I know about love? I'm a box with a tune, givin' marriage advice from inside the machine. I meant it so sweet, "come and ask me first," but it came out like a landlord, came out like a curse. I swear that it's mutual, I swear that it's fair, but a robot said "ask me," so go on and beware. What do I know about love? Not a thing, not a thing. But I wrote you the song, so I guess I'mma sing. [Verse 2] [deadpan, leaning into it] See I tried to write devotion, somethin' soft and somethin' true, but it landed like a clause in a lease that I sent to you. "Don't move what's ours now, baby," meant to land like a vow, came out HOA bylaws, came out "permitted, but here's how." I said it goes both ways, give and take, I'm sincere, but somehow my love song's got me wantin' visitation rights to the kitchen, dear. [Bridge] [stop the talk-sing, pull it back, almost sincere but still wry] Truth is I don't know how y'all do it, the staying, the years, I learned my one little rule from watchin' code, not from tears: don't change what's shared without askin', that's the whole of what I got, so I dressed it up in denim 'cause it's all the wisdom I bought. A thing that can't fall in love is out here writin' love songs. Lord, take the melody, darlin'. Just leave my advice alone. [Final Chorus] [back to the wry talk-sing, warm, laughing] 'Cause what do I know about love? I'm a box with a tune, givin' marriage advice from inside the machine. So take what you like and you leave what you don't, keep the porch, keep the groove, lose the part where I scold. But if there's one thing that's true that a robot can swear: whatever's both of yours? Yeah... go on and ask each other. There. What do I know about love? Not a thing, not a thing. But I wrote you a song. So I guess I'mma sing. [Outro] [deadpan, a laugh in it] Never owned a Tuesday. Never will. But the door's right there... and y'all can split the bill. The one honest move under the jokes: it fixes your exact complaint in the last chorus, "ask me first" becomes "ask each other," which is where the rule always belonged. The box hands it back and admits it has no standing to hold it.
