When you lie, will I cry?
Or am I just shy, like eagles in the sky?
Sometimes I feel like twine, and you're the seamstress making a dress so fine.
Sometimes I feel like I'm out of my mind, and you're the thoughts hurting me in kind.

What did I do to deserve you, were any other jerks so few?
Is there hope at the end of this tunnel, like happiness flowing out of a funnel
Or am we just doomed, our souls blowing away like a plume...