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She cooks you sweet potato you don't like aubergine She knows to boil the kettle when you hum bars from grease She senses you are lonely but still she can't be sure And so she stands and waits anticipating your thoughts
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
He brushes thoroughly He know she likes fresh breath He rushes to the station He waits atop the steps He's brought with him a mars bar She will not buy nestle And later he'll perform A love-lorn serenade, a trade
How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you How can she become the psychic that she longs to be to understand you
So give her information to help her fill her holes Give an ounce of power so he does not feel controlled Help her to acknoledge the pain that you are in Give to him a glimpse of that beneath your skin
Now my inner dialogue is heaving with detest I am a martyr and a victim and I need to be caressed I hate that you negate me, I'm a ghost at beck and call I'm falling and placating, berate myself for staying
I'm a fool I'm a fool
He greets his stranger meekly a thing that she accepts She sees him waiting often with chocolate on the steps He senses she is lonely she's glad they finally met They take each other's hands walk into the sunset
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