Shaved head and her pierced nose Big rotweillers and her tie-dyed clothes Dr. Martins with her biker tights Long black leggings on a hot summer night And nobody calls her baby Nobody says "I love you so," Nobody calls her baby I guess she'll never know His working boots and flannel shirts His sympathies buried as deep as his hurts Long lonely walks with nowhere to go His only appointment's with a tv show And nobody calls him baby Nobody says "I love you so," Nobody calls him baby I guess he'll never know Eighty pounds, she's hardly whole Losing her body to gain some control Hours alone in a tanning salon Trying a smaller and smaller size on And nobody calls her baby Nobody says "I love you so," Nobody calls her baby I guess she'll never know Pin-striped suits and wing-tipped shoes His lap-top computer and his Wall Street news He makes his plane and keeps his pace He hides his pain behind a poker face And nobody calls him baby Nobody says, "I love you so," Nobody calls him baby I guess he'll never know But somebody loves those babies Somebody loves what we can't see And if somebody told them maybe Those babies would be free