Wake the Bear
now there is no mystery
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In nineteen hundred eighty four
when you were just a girl,
I called you on the telephone
to visualize your world:
pink and preppy camisole,
wooden panel on the wall,
swear to god I saw it all
and never saw a thing.
Summertime in eighty-nine,
I passed the time and thought
I'd tear you from the pages of
the latest catalog.
Reading words upon your lips,
hold the curve along your hips;
god, did I feel so alive
and never touched a thing.
Now there is no mystery.
Everything is there to see.
Now there is no mystery.
Today the things we share and see
don't have the same effect on meâ¦
Tangled in your head of hair,
innocent and unaware.
Swore to god I'd get you,
you were never even there.