Open Book

She's writing, she's writing

She's writing a novel

She's writing, she's weaving

Conceiving a plot

It quickens, it thickens

You can't put it down now

It takes you, it shakes you

It makes you lose your thought

But you're caught in your own glory

You are believing your own stories

Writing your own headlines

Ignoring your own deadlines

But now you've gotta write them all again

You think she's an open book

But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?

You think she's an open book

But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?

Do you? Do you?

You want her, confront her

Just open your window

Unbolt it, unlock it

Unfasten your latch

You want it, confront it

Just open your window

All you really have to do is ask

But you're caught in your own glory

You are believing your own stories

Timing your contractions

Inventing small contraptions

That roll across your polished hardwood floors

You think she's an open book

But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?

You think she's an open book

But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?

Do you? Do you?

Well, you think she's an open book

But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?

Do you? Do you? Do you?