My computer thinks I'm gay.
I threw that piece of junk away.
On the champs elysees.
As I was walking home.

This is my last communiquè.
Down the superhighway.
All that I have left to say.
In a single tome.

I got, too many friends.
Too many people.
That I'll never meet.
And I'll never be there for.
I'll never be there for.
'Cause I never be there.

If I could give it all away.
Would it come back to me some day?
Like a needle in the hay.
Or an expensive stone.

But I've got a reason to declaim.
The applications are to blame.
For all my sorrow, and my pain.
Of feeling so alone.

I got, too many friends.
Too many people.
That I'll never meet.
And I'll never be there for.
I'll never be there for.
'Cause I never be there.

My computer thinks I'm gay.
What's the difference anyway.
When all that people do all day.
Is stare into a phone?

I got, too many friends.
Too many people.
That I'll never meet.
And I'll never be there for.
I'll never be there for.
'Cause I never be there.

I'll never be there.
I'll never be there.
I'll never be there.
I'll never be there.