to moonn6pence from shootingstar(papayeverte)

Outside the caf?by the cracker factory,
You were practising a magic trick,
And my thoughts got rude as you talked and chewed,
On the last of your pick and mix.

Said you're mistaken if you're thinkin that I aint been caught cold before,
As you bit into your strawberry lace,
And then a flip in your attention in the form of a gobstopper,
It was all that you had left and all is going to waste.

Your past-times, consisted of the strange,
And twisted and deranged,
And I love that little game you had called,
Crying lightning,
And how you like to aggravate the ice-cream man on rainy afternoons.

The next time that I caught my own reflection,
It was on its way to meet you,
Thinking of excuses to postpone.
You never look like yourself from the side,
But your profile could not hide,
The fact you knew I was approaching your throne.

With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache,
Stood and puffed your chest out like you'd never lost a war.
And though I tried so not to suffer the indignity of reaction
There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw.

And your past-times, consisted of the strange,
And twisted and deranged,
And I hate that little game you had called,
Crying lightning,
And how you like to aggravate the icky man on rainy afternoons.

Uninviting,
But not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are
Crying lightning.

Your past-times, consisted of the strange,
And twisted and deranged,
And I hate that little game you had called,
Crying lightning,
Crying lightning,
Crying lightning,
Crying lightning.

Your past-times, consisted of the strange,
And twisted and deranged,
And I hate that little game you had called,
Cry-ing.