Delicate Dancer

I'm imagining you...
and you're happy.
I'm imagining you happy in your living room,
but your parents aren't home,
cause it's just us.
And I won't lie and say I'm not wearing makeup,
but my eyelashes are long and the mascara is minimal.
You haven't shaved in a while,
and we're just sitting on that old couch of yours.
Where did you get that couch?
Will you let me know?
Have your parents had it since they got married?
Hey, if it's not broke, don't fix it.
There's the papers stacked by your computer,
I bet your dad was doing something important.
We're just talking,
but you're happy.
You laugh when I tease you,
because you're happy.

You got mad at me like a week ago.
How many times a day do you get mad at me?
Is it cause I teased you?
If you were really happy,
you could endure the teasing.
You wanna know how I know?
Because you endured it before.
I want you to be happy again.

Sometimes, you think you're better than people.
You'd never admit it,
but I know it.
A lot of the times, you think you're better than me.
Hey, it's probably true.
But...I think I'm better than you sometimes, too.
Like, I can sympathize better.
You can't help people like that.
Imagine if we were on the same level.
We could spend the rest of our lives helping people,
cause we'd be happy.
I would be your delicate dancer as you softly played your uke...
cause you actually know how to play the uke.
I'd hum,
and we'd pretend it sounded better than it actually did.
Give it a chance?

I'm imagining you...
and you're happy.
It's imaginary,
cause you haven't been like that for a while.
They don't make you happy.
Hell, I can't even make you happy.
But...I could be happy with you.

I think we'd wear sweaters.

I kinda love you.
And I really mean it.