He knew a girl once, they had an intellectual affair
Yeah he thought she looked good, when she put up her hair
He's got a lot of books, but all the pages are blank
Somehow he manages, to keep some cash in the bank
And he doesn't want to fall in love with her.
He's a kind of wordsmith, he's got it going on when he speaks
He wants a hardwood floor, he thinks it'd be cool if it creaked
When she comes over he turns the lights down real low
She takes off her shoes, to show the ring on her toe.
But she doesn't want to fall in love with him.
She cares for the future, she's got a recycling bin
Every Wednesday morning she sorts through all the tin
Then she pours her paint right down the drain
Yeah she's a painter, her pictures come from her pain
They listen to the big band, cause it's the coolest thing their parents ever did
They pose for the photographs and try to make them look so candid
They're so creative, they keep telling each other
Yeah he's got no math skills, his mother gave em' all to his brother
Can you describe what it's like to keep your guard up this long?
Can you describe what it's like to be alone?
Every time he sees her he tries to jump start his brain
Because he's getting slower each and every day
They're not attracted, in the physical way
It makes her feel good, to tell everyone he's gay
They stand behind you, in the grocery line
They're so impatient, to buy the cheese for their wine
And he's got a heavy, heavy, heavy, heavy, heavy, heavy, heavy guitar
And if it's the last thing he does, the boy's gonna be a star.