If he knows we're around, he doesn't careCause he acts like the world just isn't thereHe's entranced or insane, and so he singsOut of tune, but he attends, and everythingI see him seven days a week, and 365 a yearThe going and already gone are a different kind of fearIf she knows we exist, it doesn't showCause she talks to herself, as if aloneShe discusses and debates, and even fightsThough it seems in the end, she's always rightI see him seven days a week, and 365 a yearThe going and already gone are a different kind of fearIf she knows we exist, it doesn't show
