His beauty goes unseen
Due to cracks it falls between
He doesn't know how much I obsess
About everything he's ever written about me...



It doesn't matter how obtuse you are, my dear
I still think you're a-cute
And I know we must be right
Because it's 90° out here

I'd have spinal meningitis
if my dying wish could be
to spend one day setting fire to Jupiter with you
And watching it burn

And we could listen to terrible music
As we make it on Saturn
Looking back at Earth
Never again to return