A drunk monkey's two cents
Mystical. Magical. A song we all knoiw - and LOVE. But, and here's the real question, what the hell does it all mean? How can one's love be mystical and magical? To be loved is to be seen, not mystified. Who would dream of a lover whose passion they can't understand? Nightmare. Additionally, how could one's love be like moonbeam. Ice cream. Taking off your blue jeans. Moonbeam - perhaps gentle, a soft yellow moon curving over the night sky - but more likely sinister. The usage of beam almost calls to mind an image of a UFO, sucking a cow into outer space. What do those aliens want with a cow? What could Benson possibly want with me? Again, it is mystical. Unknowable. Now, ice cream. Is the ice cream moonbeam flavored? Or is Benson's lover - perhaps his prey - eating ice cream in the dead of night, bathed in moonlight, unaware of the UFO creeping towards them? The aliens want your blue jeans. Don't give them your blue jeans. They'll use them to go to a rodeo.
