Hey, still staring, little girl   Are you looking at or past me?   Worry, simple symptoms won't leave you   This underweight or red in the eyes      No more rules, the ones we make don't last the night   So pick up the pieces   Start again, start over Tuesday morning   Conscience clean      This card, postmarked December 23   The caption reads 'How does he do it?'   Ms., too bad, he treats me like I'm dead   Nothing works to make this easy      No more lies, the ones we live will work just fine   So pick up the pieces   Start again, start over Tuesday morning   Conscience clean, alone   I hope you figure out what it is you want