it's because I'm afraid that you might see me
that I look away when you enter the room
That I write fiction on my heart
when it has always been so scandalously true

it's because I think you might think about me
sometimes when you shouldn't
but you don't and I know it and I wish you did
because no one really thinks about me anymore

if I wrote a book, you would have a chapter
and you don't even know my name
and to tell the truth I don't know you either
I just picture you to put my thoughts to a face

if you knew what I thought of you
you would probably avoid me whatever it took
and the worst part of all is you'd be right to
and I would need to find someone else to put my dreams in

Then you speak to me like a stranger
don't you know I know you so well
but what you say is all wrong
and you ruin it all because I know that it is the real you

the you I didn't make in my head
the you who says things I don't understand
coming out of your mouth that I shouldn't think about
and I wonder if my you is really inside

are you a figment of my imagination
or do you really know me too
don't worry, I'm not the me you think I am either
just a stranger and her imaginary man
her you