Bonaduces I Think She's A Spy
I'm unraveling a secret, though it's clear she wants to
keep it. She hasn't said a word since she arrived. She
just appeared from nowhere. Long coat and scraggy hair,
wrapped around her face to try and hide. Halfway through
the day, I see her talking to my mathematics teacher. I
scope the notes under her nose. She says she's got a use
for finding out the length of a hypotenuse. She says it's
harmless, I suppose. Pythagoras would be ashamed of her
if he knew how she abused his theories. The square of A
plus B adds up to square of C. 22 feet of ladder hit the
window perfectly. And I know why; I think she's a spy. I
think she's going to spy on me. I think she's a spy, but
between you and I, I have no idea what she wants to see.
Friday night she's walking right behind me. Sunday I
think she's in the trees. But I don't see a trace of her
all day. Monday, looking through my night-scope, I see
her talking on the telephone. I can guess what she will
say. Alexander Graham Bell wouldn't really take it well
if he knew how she abused his machine. They relay her
voice to the agency of her choice, but there's no way I'm
going to let her get the best of me, because you see:
Chorus. I've been watching everything you do just to try
and find the truth. I can see past your disguise. I know
what it means to be alone, and she's not alone. There's
something going on behind those eyes. Chorus.
