You thought she was a misfit at the altarpiece triptych
But she always saw the love in your heart
You were a sad sack, a gag mag, from Leicester to Manchester
But you never forgot who you are
But you’re not who you told Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
You’re not who you sold Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
Your first kiss was in a graveyard. Such a spooky little flavour
Such a Tim Burton way to start
Though you were sort of, I guess, in a relationship already?
Well your name was tattooed onto her heart
Well I hope she won’t meet Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
Please don’t mistreat Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re so cynical
Acting as if she’s your romantic pinnacle
Now she’s embarking on this doomed mission
And it makes me want to slap her, “girl, use your intuition!”
But that’s Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
Yeah it’s just like Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
You were on her from the onset of the MGMT concert
And you promised you’d see her again
But when your fiancé asked who was at the concert
You lied and told her it was a friend
Well, that’s so lame to Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
Pin the blame on Erica (her sweet, sweet love)
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