In this world that you see,
In which I'm standing right before you,
But it is not me.
It's the awkward moment you had with your dad,
When he walked in on you when you were twelve,
And that other day when you took your friend's hockey card,
Even though he wanted it for himself.
You're seeing so much that is not me,
That I'm not sure you can even see you.
Though, filled with the past as you are, I must say,
It's perfect for what we do,
Which is all about right,
And respect for each other,
'Cause what more healthy relationship is there,
Than leaving endless space for each other?
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