Head, Bob
As you should, as you should

Suburbia–born
Wake up every mornin', day dreamin' 'bout a foreign
He was born into some fortune, more American than Gordon
His views kinda different from my outlook, that's why he's gorgeous
Your parents hate me though
Think I like that shit, yeah, I like the thrill of it, yeah
I'm so imperfect, it's wack, I'm so aware of the fact
That I'll never in this lifetime get the chance to be with you

A perfect soul
A perfect hand to hold
Imperfect lonely roads
Pass the controller
Let the TV roam
While my hands is on ya
Football pads is on ya
You let me take 'em off ya
Just to get closer
To you