Now when I walk in the room you know it's all I can do
To stare at the floor and not to look at you
What do you think I am leaning on the wall?
What do you think I am, or do you think at all?

This is where I realize
My trouble comes with bluest eyes
Now when I walk in the room you know it's all I can do
To stare at the floor and not to look at you
I flavor to taste because taste is free
There are so few things between the rent and me

You were standing outside of the lines
You were just swinging like a dime
You were something of a charity
And I wanted you to give some to me
But what do you think I am, the smoke in your clothes?
What do you think I am, or do you think at all?