You take coffee with your cream, you squee like a teen And the Hugh Grant stuff you've watched enough, you mumble it in your dreams Rock out on a broom, and mangle some tunes On weekends dance in jammy pants until the afternoon And I know it's hard to think that someone could be in sync With all your eccentricities You're perfect in the perfect way You're perfect, and I hope you stay Your goofy little self eternally, whoa-oh I'm weird like you, I know it's true I'm in the clouds up there with you You think you're flawed, but wouldn't you agree You're perfect for me
You talk to yourself, and answer as well You read ahead on Walking Dead before you watch the show You eat bread with fur, you still call me sir There's a piece of gum from '91 that's hiding in your purse But no matter what I sing, I wouldn't change a thing You're my postmodern masterpiece ♪ It seems your mind and mine, are strangely intertwined And that's just a-ok with me