Mister Misconstrue

Kind of an odd one. The last of the hidden tracks on Operation Gettin’ Down, cheerfully pilfering Simon & Garfunkel in its own haphazard way. Huzzah!

Mister Misconstrue

I’m a newborn lover,
and like a little child I just don’t know
how far to go.
Sometimes I’m way off-centre
and sometimes much too wild or way too slow.
These things I know.

I don’t know why my mind must watch us from outside the windowpane
I mean, feeling this self-conscious is why people go insane
But my wrecking-ball perspective seems to turn so crystal-clear
When you tell me the words I want to hear

    “Just relax, sit back, don’t have a panic attack,
    “hit the brakes on Mister Misconstrue.”
    So I’m cool, real cool, I don’t do this as a rule,
    but I’m willing to be chilling here with you.

Lying here together
I might seem calm and wise, but not as such:
I’ve dropped the clutch.
Neutral to the message
imprinted in your eyes and in your touch:
I think too much.

I don’t know why I can’t just be with you, not be with you with me.
My heart is like some Magic Eye that only I can’t see.
But when I’m doing donuts on the oval of my mind,
you bring me the peace I need to find.

    You say “Relax, lean back, pay out a little more slack,
    “draw the blinds on Mister Misconstrue.”
    Then I’m sly, real fly, I feel like a hell of a guy,
    ‘cos it’s thrilling to be chilling here with you.

Fill me with your loving,
fill me to the brim, and even then,
I won’t say when.

    when you say “Relax, lie back, but don’t put yourself on the rack,
    “dig a grave for Mister Misconstrue.”
    And it’s then, right then, my cup’s runnin’ over again,
    ‘cos it’s thrillin’ to be chillin’ here,
    it’s thrillin’ to be chillin’,
    it’s fulfillin’ to be chillin’ here with you.

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