I sit by the cutting on the Beaconsfield line.
He's watching me watching the trains go by.
And they move so fast --- boy, they really fly.
He's still watching me watching you watching the
trains go by.
And the way he stares --- feel like locking my door
and pulling my phone from the wall.
His eyes, like lights from a laser, burn
making my hair stand --- making the goose-bumps crawl.
He's watching me watching you watching him
I'm watching you watching him watching me
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