whatever he's made of
she is not
and he knows it
but he doesn't stop
she's a ship that's sailed
and he's a yatch that wails
i'm a paperboat floating
and i know i'll drown in loathing
he wants her filled in him
well he filled my pages already
but that is not what he wants
because i'm not what he wants
whatever he's made of
he's not aware
that everyday i stood there
only to break my heart
he's not aware
she's not aware
that he likes her,
oh, he's invisible
but he's the one thing
i can't stop seeing
and the next time you feel the shake in your fingers
next time you pass by this stream that lingers
the scent of me whom you don't know existed
i hope you know i lived and cried
i hope you know i lived and died
i hope you know i wrote
whatever you're made of
i am not
i'm a writer, and you're a lover
i'm a writer in love, and i know you're loving for fun
but you don't stop
whatever he's made of
she'll never know
whatever i'm made of
he'll never know.