She worked in my postoffice.
In my zip code, in my postal area.
I don't think I should reveal her name.
She'll remain anonymous, but we can call her Maria.
I met her at university.
She stared at me, I stared right back at her.
We went out for a coffee or two.
It all felt new, I can tell you.
But she turned out to be a psychogirl.
They all fall for me psychogirls.
They are drawn to me, mysteriously.
I don't know why.
Im really sorry now, psychogirl.
I can't be your guy, I can't dry your tears from your eyes.
She sent me an SMS.
But it felt more like an SOS, a cry for help.
I know your life has been a mess.
You cried yourself to sleep as a child.
In your mommy's dress and your summerdress.
But stop following me psychogirl.
I have enough problems to deal with on my own.
Just forget about me psychogirl.
Your eyes are like knives, cutting into my bones.
And if I'd be your psychologist, who would be the psychologists psychologist?
If I'd be your psychologist, who would be the psychologists psychologist?
If I'd be your psychologist, who would be the psychologists psychologist?
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