| I don’t have to say a thing
|
| She knows exactly what I want
|
| And anytime I feel like this
|
| What we have goes out for lunch
|
| She looks at me like a gun cocked
|
| And I’m afraid to turn my back
|
| For fear of being locked
|
| She leans forward for me to see
|
| That the lights of her majesty
|
| She’s tempting me with a razorblades
|
| But time is money at a penny arcade
|
| And there’s forgiving in the shadows
|
| And the birds that are afraid of being laid
|
| The court jester holds up a light bulb and says
|
| All that is made is made to decay
|
| To know her is to love her
|
| And I love her, but I don’t know her
|
| To know her is to love her
|
| And I love her, but I don’t know her
|
| I feel for a place to sit
|
| Things always go on this way
|
| I’m lost for a little bit
|
| 'Til I come up with something to say
|
| Then I’ll go on and on
|
| About rat skulls in her lawn
|
| I’ll not specifically gonna mention names
|
| Her and I know were just a shame
|
| She knows I’m here
|
| And she readily rebukes her sister
|
| She treats me with a sudden respect
|
| Suddenly she calls me 'Mister'
|
| But just as soon, I soon forget
|
| And start poking around in the trash
|
| Talking myself into outer space
|
| And watching the reactions on her face
|
| To know her is to love her
|
| And I love her, but I don’t know her
|
| To know her is to love her
|
| And I love her, but I don’t know her
|
| The picture of her sitting there
|
| Being her on that chair
|
| I can only say as much as I please
|
| But not as much as I dare
|
| Where is the little girl who fell in love with me
|
| The girl who fell in love with a satellite
|
| That little girl has moved out now
|
| But the satellite still comes around
|
| Most every other night
|
| I think my interest bleeds a heart
|
| Of a dead dog
|
| Lying in her yard
|
| I could catch her standing naked
|
| I could catch her cold
|
| I could catch her breath and bottle it
|
| But I could never catch her off guard
|
| And I go there nowadays
|
| It’s like visiting a sinking ship
|
| And I’m a man overboard
|
| And she won’t throw me a lifeline
|
| Symbolically represented by her lips
|
| Yes, to know her is to love her
|
| And I love her, but I don’t know her
|
| To know her is to love her
|
| And I love her, but I don’t know her
|
| No no no noo |