The words you write in your diary
I wonder - I wonder
Would they be about me?
Cause your pale paper skin is showing
This paper cut won't be thin
And you could jump right in
You germ, you beautiful disease
Contaminate with ease
Through clouds and glasses
Full of wine you keep on passing
I hope - I hope
You don't always wear black
Cause maroon would fit you better
And maroon and something blue
Would be an auto-I-love-you
You rainbow, you pot of fools' gold
But I'd never have you sold
You score a perfect ten
On a Richter scale I made
An earthquake almost shake
But not quite a quake, you quiet
I will buy it, dry it
Hang you out on a line
If that is in your design
If I could see
The thoughts you write in your diary
I wonder - I wonder
Would they be about me?
Would they be about me?
In your diary
In your diary