I've seen you looking over at me.
You were never any good, being discreet.
I told you once before, "everybody makes mistakes."
Your self-deprecation is holding you back.

Why don't you just say something? I can never hear you.
Your fragile self-esteem is holding you back.
I still keep your letters in my table drawer, the one with the lava-lamp.
I'd still feel much better if I could get more.

Put that book down, you're fooling no-one.
I know that's what you read when you're feeling pre-occupied.
It's cold outside, a little damp.
Have a safe drive home, you'll see me again.