You take coffee with your cream, you squee like a teen
And the Hugh Grant stuff you've watched enough, you mumble it in your dreams
Rock out on a broom, and mangle some tunes
On weekends dance in jammy pants until the afternoon
And I know it's hard to think that someone could be in sync
With all your eccentricities
You're perfect in the perfect way
You're perfect, and I hope you stay
Your goofy little self eternally, whoa-oh
I'm weird like you, I know it's true
I'm in the clouds up there with you
You think you're flawed, but wouldn't you agree
You're perfect for me

You talk to yourself, and answer as well
You read ahead on Walking Dead before you watch the show
You eat bread with fur, you still call me sir
There's a piece of gum from '91 that's hiding in your purse
But no matter what I sing, I wouldn't change a thing
You're my postmodern masterpiece
♪
It seems your mind and mine, are strangely intertwined
And that's just a-ok with me