Andrew Bird

If you come to find me affable
Build a replica for me
Would the idea to you be laughable?
Of a pale facsimile?
So would you come to burn an effigy?
It should keep the flies away
When you launce upon this effigy
It should be
For the hours that slip away
Slip away
Chorus
It could be you
It could be me
Walk in the door
Drinking for free
Carrying on with your conspiracies
Filling the room with a sense of unease
Fake conversations on a non-existent telephone
Like the words of a man who spent a little too much time alone