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 fell 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

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

"doot do do doot do do doot do"

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?