My dream girl, those eyes, that nose
My private inside joke, sign the cast on my funny bone
Floral sheets on long-given-up ghosts
Haunt my bedroom at night and say “Letu0027s get you home.”
They say “Grow up, be a man, ‘cause until then youu0027re nothing but a short-haired girl”
But come and Braille-palm-read and hold my hand, see my reason and “Goodbye cruel world.”
And oh my god, whatu0027s wrong with me?
And the wife of Walter Keane, whose name right nowu0027s escaping me...
Thatu0027s right, Margaret!

Dream girl come and sweep me off my knees
Iu0027d rather stay asleep than never see you wake up next to me.

Neon lights like heat lamps in the cold
To incubate the shadows you canu0027t stitch back to your soles
You seemed fine just a few days ago
But CO2 and fish tanks do enough to get you home.

Well now you swear in your prayers telling time “Promise Iu0027ll never have fun again
If youu0027d stop flying,” but then you start crying “never mind, you win!”
And far too late came far too soon
And the love you never made became the things youu0027d never do...
Oh, sweet Mary!

Dream girl come but keep your hands off me
Go on back to bed my love, I mean, thatu0027s where dreams are supposed to be.

So come on, William
Grow up, be a man, ‘cause until then theyu0027re gonna treat you like youu0027re just a little girl
But come and Braille-palm-read, hold my hands and youu0027ll see that itu0027s
Me who cries mercy while your fingers curl and
Oh are you at all like me?
Do you know what I mean? Or am I too close to see?
Someone, anyone?

Of the two things we do on our knees: watch me fold my hands just to crack my knuckles
Well, here is the church, here is the steeple open the doors, see all the people!
Alright, thatu0027s enough, letu0027s get you home.