Here, it hits home. Even when I'm alone.
With you in my headphones. How cool it would be...
But if every kid was me, then we'd all stand starstruck, and all go home alone.
And when it's near, then I'm prone to dig in the taste and decide that it's good.
But we'll stick with what we're used to and I'll maybe think about it, but leave all the talking to you.
You make me feel that I'm vaguely in touch with the scene I'm throwing on you.
But you keep me out just that much, 'cause you don't give me anything to hold on to.
And I'll always be thrilled, and you'll always be the one who's thrilling me.
But if I die unfufilled, I want you to know that your star is killing me.