He's sitting on a bed smoking a fag
Looking at me, "Oh what a drag"
He analyzes, probes like a scientist
Waking me up and making me exist
Confusion, Intrusion, he's my psychologist
Thinking and drinking and analyzing me
"What is her problem? Why is she this way?"
Questions, solutions are his magic trick
He's cunning, thoughtful and maybe too bright
He annoys me by always being right
I feel like a loser, but yet he's always true
Always on hand to say "I love you"
Picking up the pieces of my broken mind
Helping me to see when I'm being blind
He's loving, he's special, though he drives me insane
Making me to think, and to use my brain
