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

	Chorus

It seems your mind and mine, are strangely intertwined
And that's just a-ok with me