By Mark A. Garcia
He talks to me at the bus stop.
He sits with her on the bus.
I thought that he really loved me.
Maybe I should raise a fuss, on the bus.
The store clerk smiles he says, "Thank you'.
I float on out, peek back in.
I see him smiling at the next girl.
I don't think she's right for him, she'll never win.
They're looking at me, they're looking at me.
They're talking 'bout me and I can tell.
They're laughing at me when they get home.
They're thinking 'bout me when their alone.
They're laughing at me when they get home.
They're thinking 'bout me when their alone.
He looks so lost up on the big screen.
He turns his head towards me he stares.
I know that my love could free him.
If that other woman wasn't there, she should beware.
They're looking at me, they're looking at me.
They're talking 'bout me and I can tell.
They're laughing at me when they get home.
They're thinking 'bout me when their alone.
They're laughing at me when they get home.
They're thinking 'bout me when their alone.
They're looking at me, they're looking at me.
They're talking 'bout me and I can tell.
They're laughing at me when they get home.
They're thinking 'bout me when their alone.
They're laughing at me when they get home
They're thinking 'bout me when their alone.
He sits with me at the bus stop.
He talks to her on the bus.
I thought that he really loved me.
Maybe I should raise a fuss, on the bus.
