Little Star

I bought a phone card
I pay good money to argue with you
When speaking to you is like reaching for the stars
And talking, like reaching for the moon

And maybe, I'll argue my way to Mars
And get a little bit closer to you
Get a little bit closer

How the hell, how the hell
do you do what you do to me?

Distance is terrible
I can feel you growing apart
I might as well be a zillion miles away
And you might be my little star
And maybe I'll never reach you anyway

Being with you is a lonely art
It's a lonely art
And for once, and for once,
I'm scared you'll grow tired of me
If that means that we'll talk
Then I'll thicken the plot, Baby

So how the hell, how the hell
do you do what you do to me?