She cooks you sweet potato you don't like aubergine 
She knows to boil the kettle when you hum bars from grease 
She senses you are lonely but still she can't be sure 
And so she stands and waits anticipating your thoughts 

How can she [bad word] the psychic that she longs to be to understand you 
How can she [bad word] the psychic that she longs to be to understand you 

He [bad word] thoroughly 
He know she likes fresh breath 
 [bad word] to the station 
He waits atop the steps 
He's brought with him a mars bar 
She will not buy nestle 
And later he'll perform 
love-lorn serenade, a trade 

How can she [bad word] the psychic that she longs to be to understand you 
How can she [bad word] the psychic that she longs to be to understand you 

So give her information to help her fill her holes 
Give an ounce of power so he does not feel controlled 
Help her to acknoledge the pain that you are in 
Give to him a glimpse of that beneath your skin 

Now my inner dialogue is heaving with detest 
I am a martyr and a victim and I need to be caressed 
I hate that you negate me, I'm a ghost at beck and call 
I'm falling and placating, berate myself for staying 

I'm a fool 
I'm a fool 

He greets his stranger meekly a thing that she accepts 
She sees him waiting often with chocolate on the steps 
He senses she is lonely she's glad they finally met 
They take each other's hands walk into the sunset