Outside the cafe by the cracker factory
You were practicing a magic trick.
And my thoughts got rude
As you talked and chewed on
The last of your pick and mix

Said "You're mistaken if you're thinking that I haven't been called 'cold' before"
as you bit into your strawberry lace.
And then I flip your attention in the form of a gobstopper
It's all you had left and it was going to waste

Your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I loved that little game you had called
'Crying Lightning'
And how you liked to aggravate the icky man on rainy afternoons

The next time that I caught my own reflection
It was on its way to meet you,
Thinking of excuses to postpone.
You never looked like yourself from the side
But your profile could not hide
The fact you knew I was approaching your throne.

With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache,
Stood and puffed your chest out like you'd
never lost a war.
And though I tried so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction there was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw

And your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
'Crying Lightning'
And how you liked to aggravate the icky man on rainy afternoons

Uninviting,
But not half as impossible as everyone assumes
You are crying lightning.

And your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and deranged
And I hate that little game you had called
'Crying Lightning'
Crying lightning
Crying lightning
Crying lightning

Your pastimes consisted of the strange
And twisted and derange
And I hate that little game you had called
Crying.