If I was a story, you'd be my narrator
If I was a cowboy, you'd be my saddle maker
i wanna make you feel so proud
Another flannel in the crowd

If I was a body, you'd be my soul incarnate
A sailor's bicep? You'd be the old ink on it
I wanna make you feel amused
By the analogies I use

And I wanna love you, and hold your hand in mine
And skate figure eights till our hearts are intertwined
Yeah God forbid I feel something explicit
Without obscurity or ambivalence
See, I hate this protocol that keeps you apart from me
And I hate this city and its teeming arteries
I wanna found a colony on Neptune
Where all the history books start with the day I met you
And I hate these hipsters and their sleeve tattoo addictions
That can't change the fact that they all grew up in subdivisions
Yeah, just keep on like you're doing us a favor
By having a black family for your neighbors
Hey, they fucking hate you, and Father John Misty too
And they hate the walls that they always hear you through
While you impress each other quoting Wayne Coyne and Wu-Tang
And get nostalgic when the playlist hits 'New Slang'

See, I want the suburbs, where there's no subtlety to suffering
We can flatter ourselves with underachieving offspring
I want some silence and some soft frustration
A slamming-cabinet-inarticulation
And in the summers, we'll go to Edward's Isle
We'll see Green Gables, we'll see our daughter smile
And that will have to be our consolation
And consequently our culmination

Till one day I'm balding, I'm good and emasculated
I'm talking through dinner about who I would've traded
And you'll grit your teeth and say "It does not matter
"Because you ain't the motherfucking general manager"
And I'll say "That's just fine! I'm glad you feel that way"
And later that night I'll think of what I wanna say
Which is: My love for you lives on a great frontier
And it's settlin new territory each year
But your love for me just lingers by the shore
And wonders what it ever left the Old Country for
And I would die to get you off that coast
If I believed that you could love a ghost

But I'll never say that, we'll never talk about it
Until our mouths become so overcrowded
With words that never saw the light of day
They start to rot and then just pass away
And then we're tame, we're without complications
Like passion and hunger, humor and expectations
And then with nothing left to want or dread
One morning there's a corpse inside your bed

No, let's never do that, I never want that for us
Let's just be here now, and hear another chorus, like this:
If I was stranded on a desert island, and I'd never met you and I was nearly dyin
And I needed some thought--some vision of a woman
And I'd never met you (that part is real important)
I would imagine you down to each detail
Down to your laugh and eyes and taste and toenails