Cooky
I was wrong, you were right, you can spell it how you like
Common sense be damned, full speed ahead
Conventions never were your thing
Type those pretty thoughts into the night
Talking hard
I used “proscribe,” you called me out
You know I love to argue, babe
I don’t take prisoners but I’ll fight you fair
Maybe I’m the lunatic you’re looking for
I don’t need to win, don’t ever walk away from an honest debate
Hey, it doesn’t matter, doesn’t mean a thing
When did we stop having fun in here?
My heart, I’m yours
And your sketchy spelling doesn’t change a thing about us
Trust me when I tell you
She doesn’t know your name, I didn’t tell her who was
Talking like a cookbook from the fifties
I just said you were a friend
Anonymous as ever at my job, slacking off
Can we sharpen wits without it being hurtful?
God, I hope so
Kid, I need to feel we’re cool with repartee
Holding back holds us apart

