Our space doesn’t exist, friend
It doesn’t exist anymore
Stopped being a thing once your Y chromosome didn’t match
My double X
And we realized boys and girls didn’t have sleep overs
So
Take your sticky fingers away from me, dear
Don’t kiss me sloppily on the cheek in thanks for penny candy, dear
Please stop trying to wear my shorts, dear
They are women’s cut, dear, and the five inch inseam... oh dear
You have a girl friend, dear
And you will have another one next month
And the month after that, another one
Our space only exists in-between,
Where platonicy reigns supreme
But that doesn’t exist anymore, because all girls and all boys end up together, right?
Only I’m right here and you’re right here, so we’re togther
It’s just that you’re my little brother from another mother
And I’m your personal driver
Our space doesn’t exist anymore