I Love You, Aimee Mann

There comes a time when you swim or sink,
so I jumped in the drink
'cause I couldn't make myself clear.
Maybe I wrote in invisible ink.
Oh, I've tried to think--
how I could have made it appear?
But another illustration is wasted
'cause the results are the same.
I feel like a ghost who's trying to move your hands
over some Ouija board in the hopes I can spell out my name.
What some take for magic at first glance
is just sleight of hand, depending on what you believe.
Something gets lost when you translate.
It's hard to keep straight--
perspective is everything.
And I know now which is which and what angle I oughta look at it from.
I suppose I should be happy to be misread-
better be that than some of the other things I have become.
But nobody wants to hear this tale.
The plot is cliched, the jokes are stale.
And baby we've all heard it all before.
Oh, I could get specific but
nobody needs a catalog
with details of love I can't sell anymore.
And aside from that, this chain of reaction,
baby, is losing a link.
Though I'd hope you'd know what I tried to tell you,
and if you don't, I could draw you a picture in invisible ink.
But nobody wants to hear this tale.
The plot is cliched, the jokes are stale.
And baby we've all heard it all before.
Oh, I could get specific, but
nobody needs a catalog
with details of love I can't sell anymore.


Pre-marathon brunch. A beautiful day in Wilmington with Nac.