| I never feel small
|
| I don’t feel any way at all
|
| My reflection’s an apparition
|
| Of her picture on your nightstand
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| Laying in your bedroom
|
| Your relics surround me
|
| Margaret and I will never be friendly now
|
| Margaret and I will never be friends
|
| You and I exist
|
| Like spoiled suburban kids making up a Christmas list
|
| The possibilities are endless
|
| Just laughter in the corner
|
| Of some archetypal diner
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| The kind that makes everybody else feel like such a bother
|
| The bind that just engulfs the two of us in one another
|
| The bind that engulfs Margaret into disaffecting wonder
|
| Compare your sin
|
| It’s kind of an obsession
|
| I fixate on what happened in the end
|
| And what makes it worse
|
| Is in an alternate universe
|
| She and I would probably be friends
|
| I wish we could be
|
| Hey now i’m knocked out
|
| My reaction unbecoming
|
| I just run my mouth
|
| Spare no details, spare no feelings
|
| But if you and I are sacredly connected to each other
|
| Does that necessitate some kind of enlightenment on my part
|
| Will I never grow out of all my typical behavior
|
| And let Margaret just accept you were not the only one
|
| Compare your sin
|
| It’s kind of an obsession
|
| I fixate on what happened in the end
|
| And what makes it worse
|
| Is in an alternate universe
|
| She and I would probably be friends
|
| I wish we could be |