It's far too perfect an end aren't i supposed to learn to bend in all kinds of unnatural ways you've already seen me at my best oh my god you've seen me undressed so much for mystery
  
  and on the count of ten swear you'll tell me the truth is there a minefield under you too? and do you wanna run to the nearest telephone booth and call me?
  
  cuz it's not like i don't know you and i don't wanna throw you but it's damn near impossible to meet your gaze and the silence just isn't the same it only feeds the flame and steers us clear of the blaze
  
  cuz i've always tied myself to the deadest driest trees and i've been known to strike a match and now i'm screaming bloody hell to be set free and all you have to do boy is catch
  
  catch my drift to me the only mystery is what your answer will be
  
  the real mystery is why i just won't accept the truth that i've been resenting red for not being blue like i've been resenting him for not being you and not calling me home