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You talk a lot about nothing at all
Watch TV shows about nothing at all
Think a lot about nothing at all
Listen to songs about nothing at all
You have no feelings
I think you are an alien being
You won't let me in
I think you are an alien being

I'm counting the habits you made me break
I'm counting the drugs you won't let me take
I'm counting my friends you won't let me see
I've had enough, you never give me anything
Don't you know love goes home to Paris in the spring?
Adding up the odds, I've waited for you
I'm counting the calls that never came through
I'm counting my friends you melted away

When I meet you at Juan's party you'd just moved here
You knew some of my friends from Tulsa
I liked your accent & we talked til Juan kicked us out
You walked me back to my apartment

But you didn't come inside
You just smiled at me so wide
You said "I'm so glad I met you

Single girl, single girl, she's going dressed fine
Oh, she's going dressed fine
Married girl, married girl, she wears just any kind
Oh, she wears just any kind

Single girl, single girl, she goes to the store and buys
Oh, she goes to the store and buys
Married girl, married girl, she rocks the cradle and cries

Some recollection of symmetry
It was hazy and 70
And her in a summer dress
Half a beer and her hair a mess
The sound of music from the kitchen boombox
With a heart like a symphony
Cymbal crashing infinity

You have prosthetic wings
You drive a surveillance van
You're always doing seven things
You write the code for brain implants
There are no papers on you
The law doesn't cover what you do
You and your think tank entourage
Are all counterculture demigods

In this town
There is nothing at all
But a brown school and a dead shopping mall
The record store is execrable
We sit around blowing bubbles
'Cause we're young and insane
And we're running away for the summer
We're deprived and depraved