| Ours is not a sweet love
 | 
| Ours is not a flame that burns like heaven so nice
 | 
| Don’t look in my eyes or I’ll tell you twice
 | 
| It’s really complicated
 | 
| Ours is not a sweet goodbye
 | 
| Ours is not a fear that melts like ice
 | 
| So use your heart like a homing device
 | 
| And tell it to me later
 | 
| Suddenly there’s no «There, there»
 | 
| And you’re throwing me another blank stare
 | 
| 'Cause we use the same products for our hair
 | 
| For our hair
 | 
| Ours is not a sweet lullaby
 | 
| Ours is not a dream that falls on innocent eyes
 | 
| Consider mulling over my sage advice
 | 
| And get a new computer
 | 
| Ours is not a home sweet home
 | 
| Ours is not a street that leads to paradise
 | 
| So hard to breathe with my balls in a vice
 | 
| I really should be going
 | 
| Suddenly neither one of us cares
 | 
| That the rules are so unfair
 | 
| 'Cause we use the same products for our hair
 | 
| For our hair
 | 
| Ours is not a golden age
 | 
| Ours is not a time that will be remembered as wise
 | 
| So hang your heads and watch as it dies
 | 
| And lose my phone number
 | 
| 'Cause we are made of passing dreams
 | 
| We are here to entertain a sick deity
 | 
| To procreate with a demon seed
 | 
| But I swear it gets better
 | 
| Suddenly the man upstairs
 | 
| Comes down to get some air
 | 
| And we hope he likes what we’ve done to our hair
 | 
| To our hair
 | 
| (One two three four, one two three four)
 | 
| (One two three four, one two three four)
 | 
| (One two three four, one two three four)
 | 
| (One two three four, one two three four) |