Are you OK, are you OK, Jonathan?
Your new pictures are lovely, but why are you so thin?
And all your emails have their grammar and their capitalization,
And they tell me Hitler's hot, and you like punishment.
Now your real friends are all high
And your mom is out again,
But when you jack off on my screen,
I can almost feel your hand.
And I know you love me best
'Cause you know we'll never touch,
So I make up who I am
'Cause who I am just ain't that much.
Now it's OK, it's OK, Jonathan.
You don't have to know or hear of every single band.
Just know that I love you in your bathroom mirror, opening your pants.
And I love that you asked me if you should shave it, oh how you crave my glance.
We're a thousand miles away
And we curse it every day
But you know that I suspect
It's the reason we connect.
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