Texty: Aimee Mann. Bachelor No. 2. Satellite.

Let's assume you were right
And play the game of charm and strange
And satellite
And when we've all had our fun
Deflate the stars
And put away the sun
And so we can call it a day


Cause I'll never prove that my motives were pure
So let's remove any question of cure
Cause even though you've made it pretty obscure
Baby, it's clear, from here--
You're losing your atmosphere
From here, you're losing it


So let's assume it was true
Cause baby can't lift up a hand to swear to you
And what's the use of defense?
The hangers-on are too far gone for evidence
And that one was lost from the first


Cause I'll never prove that my motives were pure

So let's remove any question of cure
Cause even though you've made it pretty obscure
Baby, it's clear, from here--
You're losing your atmosphere
From here, you're losing it


So have it your way
Whatever makes the best resume
Whatever you can throw in
Wash, rinse and spin til it's
Spun away--okay
But I won't be sticking around


Cause I'll never prove that my motives were pure
So let's remove any question of cure
Cause even though you've made it pretty obscure
Baby, it's clear, from here--
You're losing your atmosphere
From here, you're losing it