Monica's light's become a falling star And so it follows, you're nothing to her She just forgets that you are You're growing fainter Monica's light has returned To the source of its nature You're emotionally divorced From what you think of her And what she's after I know But I won't tell her so I know But I won't tell a soul What I know Monica's light Was given away to a stranger It was abstract it was insignificant So Monica's light returned To the source of its nature She's got sixty separate movements For each hour I know But I won't tell her so I know But I won't tell a soul What I know