She had a reconstructed face And he had no lips to speak of There was no feature out of place And no recipe for sweet love From an Indiana Dodge To an Airstream by the parkway In the silver they would lodge And as for love they hit it sharply He was the type to look for work Although not the kind to find it She was an office temp and clerk He didn't have to be reminded... But he minded He was a writer in his dreams He sent his thoughts to magazines He'd get them back without a check What do bohemians expect? He started hanging out with those Collectively misunderstood Their only thought was how to pose And as their failure he was something good... She roomed and boarded him for years She was supported in her fears She was a ruby in his shoe His neck was red enough for two She had dreams all of her own She'd tell him that soon on the phone She wasn't ever coming back She was never bored she would give him that He came home drunk out of his head Except she wasn't there to steer He needed her to find the bed She left the Airstream running clear She had a reconstructed life With no regrets to speak of Seems she was not the docile type Without a recipe for sweet love She had a reconstructed fate