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You tell me you don't like the way I comb my hair |
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But there are two of us at this table |
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Only one of us doesn't care |
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You're so engrossed in what you read |
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And you're not really there |
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Can tell you all my troubles |
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And all you say is 'yeah, yeah, yeah' |
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Television's off tonight |
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I heard somebody cry outside |
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The smells of spring are everywhere |
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Getting mixed up with my own |
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Could've sworn I heard you say this house was not your home |
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Medicine cabinet is your only friend |
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Your greatest fear is telephone |
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Here it comes again |
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You look like so many adjectives |
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But what you are is what I'm not |
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You come round here in a brand new shirt |
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And announce that you're a brand new girl |
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But you stole that line |
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And you probably stole the shirt as well |
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Sometimes I have to wonder why |
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I'd only take an inch and you gave me a mile |
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It's got more to do with stupidity |
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Than it has to do with style |
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Every time you come round here |
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I never know just what you'll wear |
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And I'm sitting here in yesterdays underwear |
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Do you have to try hard to look as though you really couldn't care |
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A friend once told me apathy looks good on her |
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You look like so many similes |
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What you are is a cat in sunshine |
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And when you're here I feel like D Day is here |
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All those songs about burning houses are giving me ideas |
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If I hear those words once more I'll pour the petrol on the floor |
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And I'll watch the flames caress your door |
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You look like so many analogies |
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But what you are is a cat in sunshine |
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A cat in sunshine, a canary in a coal mine |
