Love Just Isn't

The barometer says, «There is a storm»
The mercury’s low and the sky is forlorn
There’s a wayward draft under my door
The barometer says, «there is a storm»
The textbook says, «This is what took place
Eyewitness accounts and magistrates
The gavel came down and they closed the case»
The textbook says, «This is what took place»
The preacher says, «Love all that you find
The drunks, the whores, the poor and the blind
All of us must be of one mind»
The preacher says, «Love all that you find»
The composer says, «The rules go like this
No second inversions or parallel fifths
No predestined notes that don’t go where they fit»
The composer says, «The rules go like this»
The orphan says, «I'm tired of your wars
'An eye for an eye' but you question 'what for?'
You took my mother and father, now you’re asking for more»
The orphan says, «I'm tired of your wars»
The newsman says, «We can’t let them in
At the end of the day, it’s us or them
And there’s simply no room left in the inn»
The newsman says, «We can’t let them in»
Well the draft came and went, and the storm simply quit
The historians acquired new evidence
And the street-dwellers still sing their laments
With out-of-key harmonies and parallel fifths
And the newsman’s a wanderer but they can’t let him in
There’s simply no room left in that orphan’s inn
Words and numbers are fickle and complex, but love just isn’t