Monica:
Clean? That's brilliant! You're clean!
Ian:
Are you coming out of the bathroom?
Monica:
Why did you never tell me? Why didn't you never write me back or-where were you?
Ian:
Sitting in a room
Feeling all the skew, I was all a-skewages
Monica:
Sitting in a room
Thinking about you
Nothing ever changes
Both:
Now at last you're here beside me
Sitting in a room
Ian:
Come out the bathroom
Mon, come on!
Monica:
Don't call me Mon!
Here I go!
Ian:
Hello
Monica:
Hello
All the lies we tell ourselves
To lift us up, to make things better
I wish I had a dime for every time
I wanted to phone or make you a tape
Or go to the corner to mail another letter
But no reply
You never answered me
I just presumed you didn't love me anymore
Ian:
I got your letter
But I couldn't speak to you
I couldn't get the truth to you the way that I intended to
And while I was getting clean
Monica:
Being in a room, seeing into you
Instant reminiscing
Ian:
Inside me I knew
Sitting in my room
Something was missing
Am I the only one?
Monica:
You're not the only one
Ian:
Is there someone else?
Monica:
Yes.
Ian:
Who?
