I don't believe everything happens for a reason
To us romantics out here, that amounts to high treason
I don't go in for your star-crossed lovers
In the heart of a skeptic
There's a question that still hovers near

[Bird]
For it begs the question
How did I ever find you?
Now you got me writing love songs
With [bad word] refrain like this one here, baby

[Apple]
And all your left handed kisses
Were just prelude to another
Prelude to your backhanded love song, baby

[Bird]
But it begs a question
How did I ever find you
Drifting gently through the gyre
Of the great Sargasso sea, Atlantic Ocean
Got me writing love songs
With [bad word] refrain like this one here

[Apple]
The point your song here misses
Is that if you really loved me
You'd risk more than a few 50 cent
Words in your backhanded love song

[Bird / Both]
For it begs the question
How did I ever find you
Drifting gently through the gyre
Of the great Sargasso sea, Atlantic Ocean

[Apple / Bird]
The point your song here misses
You got me writing love songs
Is that you really love me
With [bad word] refrain like this one here, baby
Is prelude to another of your backhanded love songs

[Bird / Apple]
Now it's time for a handsome little bookend
Now it's time to tie up all the loose ends
I still a skeptic or did you make me a believer?
If you hesitate, you'll hear the click of the receiver