Simeon's Dilemma

Stalker's my whole style And if I get caught, I'll Deny, deny, deny Today you're twenty-five I made you something fine It's in the palm of my new hand It's out You're mostly what I think about and I'm proud I've been coasting on this singles route But I still hear your name In wedding bells, will I look better or will I look the same? Rotting in hell You're the only proper noun I need, hurry My copper crown's gone green Pull me Pull me on out of this tree, I'm stuck up a branch waiting Clearly caught between two things unclear to me Are you a female young messiah? For stow aways and dugouts And are you, what church folk mean by the good news Pulling plastic bags off heads Or are you giving me a dirty look in the rearview Clicking the button on your U-Haul pen Don't pretend you didn't see me coming 'round the bend On my fixie with the chopped horns turned in Trailing behind your biodiesel Benz Stalker's my whole style and if I get caught I'll Deny, deny, deny Deny, deny, deny Deny, deny, deny Twenty-five carved with a butter knife On the palm of my new hand It's out, you're mostly what I think about