Your making me stupid all over againnYour making me forget all over againnYour making me act so very strangenYour making me pass on all of the blamennI don’t mind the guesswork in my mindnI don’t mind the waiting all of the timenI don’t mind queuing up in your linenI don’t mind the quietness in your eyesnnI could tell you all is going to be okaynI could whisper ‘sweetheart’ its okaynI could find the words you’re trying to saynI could get your blue eyes back from grey