Album: Whistler
She thinks you don't know what she says about you
If your grass is green or your eyes are blue
Or a hundred other reasons she will scheme her little schemes
She put you where you are now in her dreams
And maybe she is blinded
By her own imaginings
But even when you're deafened
By all her whisperings
She'll still think she's silently pulling the strings
She's got a habit that she can't afford
Of telling you about the points that she's scored
Or maybe she just wants to give her little game away
But it's curious way to be spending the day
And maybe she is blinded
By her own imaginings
But even when you're deafened
By all her whisperings
She'll still think she's silently pulling the strings