And I haven't asked for much since I met her
Some courage and maybe some heart
But Jupiter, please, will you raise your fists
And mend all that keeps us apart?
There's the thing with her father
The thing with me broken, her new jealous ex and the press
And each of them, not much worse than the other
But still pretty bad nonetheless
Because there are spiders under my skin
When she's not next to me
And there are spiders breeding armies
Happily tethered to their funny spouses
With drooling babies on the way
With bright colored sweaters that grow in the dark
Can't you make us be more like them?
There's the thing with her girlfriends
The whole feeling nothing, the geography of it all.
And each of them not much worse than the other
But still pretty bad all in all

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