It was raining like the end
The sky was full of dark
All the monsters were out
There were terrors about
doing their thing, making their mark
And then there was you
with a sword and a light like the sun
Then there was you
I suppose you think you’re the one
You think you’re just perfect
Well isn’t that nice?
You think you’re a gift
But I think there’s a price.
Don’t actually need you to save me
I’m not lonely just alone
Not some damsel in distress
some fainting thing in a pretty dress
I’m doing just fine on my own
You think you’re just perfect
Well isn’t that nice?
You think you’re a gift
But I think there’s a price.
So what if you’re funny
So what if you’ve got looks and brains to spare
So what if you’re amazing
So what, so what, so what, why should I care?
You think you’re just perfect
Well isn’t that nice?
You think you’re a gift
But I think there’s a price.
Fuck Jones, that’s a song! That there is a song, slightly cruel and dark and going right to the core. I don’t know if you can sing. But right now, I’m hoping you can.