Pseudonym Song

She crosses her legs skinny indian style
And flashes with eyelashes a passive-agressive smile
Pass the pot of coffee. You can hold the cream
All the clutter in my life is making me mean
It's making me mean
It's making me mean

Two claustrophobic peas in a pod
Two symbiotic, fumbling, crumbling dirt clods
Two polar opposites trying to attract
Two ulcered misfits unable to attack
Never attacking 'cause they're lacking the necessary backing

Me and Sue
Sue and me
Squinting at each other through our coffee steam
Me and Sue
Sue and me
Pass the pot and hold the cream
Pass the pot and hold the cream

She cynical, paranoid and lazy
Another gross product of the airborne '80s
Spitting out grounds, visceral vowel sounds
She says A-E-I-O you know I'm crazy
I'm crazy as hell
And love makes me intolerant as well
And you makes me intolerant as well

Her eyes are tied to the tongue of her tennis shoes
Her eyes seem propped open with toothpicks and screws
There's a combustible conversation not taking place
So we're tippy-toe tightroping through time and space
Space and time
Mind over matter
And matter undermined
Mind over matter
And matter undermined

Me and Sue
Sue and me
Obscuring our hunger with crumbs and caffeine
Me and Sue
Sue and me
Pass the pot and hold the cream
Pass the pot and hold the cream
Hold that thought
Let go of me