MC Frontalot - You've got aspergers, kid! lyrics

You got Asperger's, this ain't a barbecue
It's your whole afternoon though
Lost down a rabbit hole
Looking for a timepiece
Wonder when your date's at
Wonder if she'll visit you at all today relax

Wonder how many ribbons to expect in her hair
To deflect talk of triplets in
Respect for the pair or to stare at the bow
Made of four different colors
Didn't notice someone talking to
You: there were others in the room
Out in the gloom of the periphery
To shift your focus for a moment
Is to give the ribbons liberty
And that's to suggest they make escape
This is a secret from the future:
Can't rewind like a tape

Got to make the best and the most
Of each moment as it happens
Got to keep your eyes on those bows
Got to trap in your vision all four of them
Cause this is a first:
She might have noticed last time that
You like ribbons that are hers

And sometimes you wish you didn't
Sometimes it slips your mind
But when she's supposed to visit
Isn't one of those times
And you're on one of those lines
Of thought that you encounter
When you'd rather your surroundings were
Quieter instead of louder
So that you could focus on
Other than a clock tick

You don't want to talk shit but the one
Who made the clock made the cog stick
Minutes are violent noise
Obliterating what you thought of
As silent poise

Miles of boys before you done got crushed
Out on a girl like that, her hair flush
With ribbons on all occasions and every day
If only making study of the
Bow could stem it's getaway

Letter A S P E R G E R S:
Wonder whether she's so
Confident with alphabets
That she'd do it backwards
Skipping alternate letters

If you offer demonstration
Would she consider that clever?
This bitter endeavor: trying to
Predict a reaction

You know you're supposed to try
To give the notion traction
But it don't do nothing 'cept
Make the clock tick
It don't even do that yo, you got Asperger's
Kid

And I feel for you, son i know love is hard
Can't even write down all the answers
On the back of a card
From the back and the far
End of a cafeteria line
You seem to catch sight of
A ribbon fabric shines
And you abandon your tray
Leave it clatter on the floor

You haven't planned it this way you
Can't look at her no more
You don't know what her eyes are like
Whether she ever smiles
Whether anything other than how she
Wears her hair beguiles

And while some apron ladies holler at you
You clutch your left ear and
Stand still like a statue
You could count cut corn on
The floor without subtracting
Misplaced fish sticks like
Dustin Hoffman overacting

Ain't this already a scene in
Need of a fast forward?
Why won't the lunch people hush
Do they court discord?
You think you see a flash of
Color fleeing it could be worse:
You could have known how
Many ribbons there are, if they were hers