I don't ever dream about you and me
I don't ever make up stuff about *us*
that would be considered insanity
I don't ever drive by your house to see if you're in
I don't even have an opinion on that tramp
that you are still seeing
I don't know your timetable
I don't know your face off by heartbut
I must admit that there *is* a part that still thinks
that we might get on
we might get on
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