I've written you thirty-seven letters, none of which 
I'll ever send
But I'll write them and re-read them, over and over 
again
I have sixteen that say I love you, sixteen that wish 
you dead
And drunken Bukowski ramblings in the five that I have 
left
To whom it may concern, I will not call you on the 
phone
At 3:30 in the morning when the loneliness hits home
If Virginia is for lovers, Cinton Avenue's for fools
And November just can't help itself from reminding me 
of you
Easy to see, oh stupid me
Has got it bad for a skinny legged girl
Got it bad for a skinny-legged girl
It goes ba ba bada ba ba bada ba ba bada baaaa
Bada la ba dadadada
With your paintings, books and pictures in a box under 
my bed
I should throw them all away, but I will keep them here 
instead
As a reminder of the damage a black-rimmed glasses girl 
can do
Well I am walking, sulking, living, breathing, singing, 
living proof
Easy to see, oh stupid me
Has got it bad for a skinny legged girl
Got it bad for a skinny-legged girl
It goes ba ba bada ba ba bada ba ba bada baaaa
Bada la ba dadadada
Well I can't extrude romantic, I destroy the things I 
love
And this role of the victim, well it fits me like a 
glove
But every victim needs a villain, and mine looks a lot 
like you
Sincerely and yours truly I sign number forty-two
Easy to see, Oh stupid me
Has got it bad for a skinny legged girl
Got it bad for a skinny-legged girl
It goes ba ba bada ba ba bada ba ba bada baaaa
Bada la ba dadadada