#1
I must be missing fingers,
'cause I can't seem to count
The number of ways and reasons
you've got to shut me out;
Or the number of cold wet seasons
I've had to pretend
That I would like nothing better
than just being your friend.

But you know (you know)
You know
Thats just a means to an end.

I must be missing fingers,
'cause I can't come to grip
Why you would laugh so loudly
Every time I trip;
Or why you would smile gladly
As I die on the floor
Well I would love you madly
If I thought it'd even the score.

But you know (you know)
You know
It'd be the same as before.

I must be missing fingers,
'cause I can't seem to count
The number of ways and reasons
you've got to shut me out;
Or the number of cold wet seasons
I've had to pretend
That I would like nothing better
than just being your friend.