Jonathan Coulton You Could Be Her
I run the God damned pretzel store at Buckingham Mall
Here on the east wing’s second floor I’m belle of the
ball
But at night I could swear that I’m someone else
Someone who’s better
Why does no one come here to save me?
Why won’t anybody stay?
Cause I’ve got it in my head that maybe you could be
her
Six hundred dollars, seven days, and I drink all I make
While people with great big fat BA’s, they move and
they shake
I can’t dress me up, I can’t take me out
I can’t do nothing
Why does no one come here to save me?
Why won’t anybody stay?
Cause I’ve got it in my head that maybe you could be
her
You don’t come by no more
You never wear that sweater I like
You don’t say nothing that makes me think I’ll ever get
out of here
Six in the morning, I’m awake, and it’s nobody’s fault
I knot them up tightly, watch them bake, and rub in the
salt
Somewhere there's a hell that was meant for me
And I think I found it
Why does no one come here to save me?
Why won’t anybody stay?
Cause I’ve got it in my head that maybe you could be
her
