S. Hurley
Early each morning his coffee spills
On his sneakers
Which somehow reminds him last night
He forgot to speak to her
Puts it out of his mind
He won't do it next time
Somehow he has got to break these binds
Driving to work, the irony makes him snicker
'Cause what's causing his problem is something that he went after
Exaggerated victories
Ramoured one out of three
Now he thinks she's frightened, is she '
He's like an avalanche that's going the wrong way
His mixed up merriment just keeps him going down
What he says is true isn't always what he sees
Why does the caption say he might be me
Later that night he looks at the phone unease
He wonders if she'll understand what he means
His imagined fears
She probably thinks he is wierd
Can he stand to have his desires mirrored
When it comes down to this, things always take him back
He can't seem to fight back his own attack
He lives some story of a broken heart
Which is really all all fiction and it never did start
When his dreams approach he rips them apart