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Fun.
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She Doesn't Get It
All the girls pose the same for pictures
All the boys got the same girls' hair
I am bored 'cause I feel much older
Look at me, as if I've got a reason to stare
But you talk so loud
that it calms me down
You're crying 'Let's make a toast'
She says she's leaving on a Sunday
That leaves me one more night
Can I take you home?
I know it's wrong
but I know your type
She says she's leaving on a Sunday
and I don't care
I need to know where to turn
I tried it once
It never caught on
I was the only one who got burned
I've read every word you're said
From a poster of a cat
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Four books look across your sofa
I thought your coffee table
was more clever than that
It gets worse once we get to her room
as she stops and sings
I claim 'new religion' is my song
She doesn't get it
It's all before she was born
And you lock your doors
Like I've been here before
I feel like I've seen a ghost
Suddenly between sheets and eyelids I am reminded why I don't do this
I fall in love far too quickly
I never want her to forget me
When you're gone
Will you call?
Will you write?
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