This is no great illusion 
When I'm with you I'm looking for a ghost 
Or invisible reasons 
To fall out of love [bad word] screaming from our home 
Because we live in a house of mirrors 
We see our fears and everything 
Our songs, faces, and secondhand clothes 
But more and more we're suffering 
Not nobody, not a thousand beers 
Can keep us from feeling so all alone
But you are what you love 
And not what loves you back 
That's why I'm here on your doorstep 
Pleading for you to take me back
The phone is a fine invention 
It allows me to talk endlessly to you 
About nothing disguising my intentions 
Which I'm afraid, my friend, are wildly [bad word] 
It's a sleight of hand, a white soul band 
The heart attacks I'm convinced I have 
Every morning upon waking 
To you I'm a symbol or a monument 
Your right of passage to fufillment 
But I'm not yours for the taking
But you are what you love 
And not what loves you back 
I guess that's why you keep calling me back
I'm fraudulent, a thief at best 
coward who paints a [bad word] canvas 
Things that will never happen to me 
But at arms length, it's Tim who said 
I'm good at it, I've mastered it 
Avoiding, avoiding everything
But you are what you love, Tim 
And not what loves you back 
And I'm in love with illusions 
So saw me in half 
I'm in love with tricks 
So pull another rabbit out of your hat