Little Star

I bought a phone card

I pay good money to argue with you

When speaking to you is like reaching for the stars

And talking, like reaching for the moon

And maybe, I'll argue my way to Mars

And get a little bit closer to you

Get a little bit closer

How the hell, how the hell

do you do what you do to me?

Distance is terrible

I can feel you growing apart

I might as well be a zillion miles away

And you might be my little star

And maybe I'll never reach you anyway

Being with you is a lonely art

It's a lonely art

And for once, and for once,

I'm scared you'll grow tired of me

If that means that we'll talk

Then I'll thicken the plot, Baby

So how the hell, how the hell

do you do what you do to me?