lately i haven’t been sleeping all that well   try as i might   thinking of all the thoughts that never will   (c’mon michele fight the good fight)   you treat me like an angel, buried in the snow   it will melt eventually, it’s just ice as you may or may not know      plastic bags all fly then lie themselves in the street   as i drive   a fog gripped over all the grass and fell asleep   that’s how i know it’s night   a helicopter’s overhead and you’ve been drinking again   i was so angry you had figured me out   but don’t you worry, i’ll get over it      your dark hair seperates into ten silly lines   one’s for me   and when we say hello or prolong goodbye   you treat me like a person that i know i’m not   you can say what you will about me now   but someday you’ll say, she’s not what i thought.