But before I get to work, the lyrics to my current favorite song...

Will someone please call a surgeon
Who can crack my ribs and repair this broken heart
That you're deserting for better company?

I can't accept that it's over
And I will block the door like a goalie tending the net
In the third quarter of a tied-game rivalry...

So... Just say how to make it right...
And... I swear I'll do my best to comply.

Tell me am I right to think that there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride and slowly growing old together...

I feel I must interject here...
You're getting carried away, feeling sorry for youself
With these revisions and gaps in history...

So let me help you remember...
I've made charts and graphs that should finally make it clear.
I've prepared a lecture on why I have to leave...

So... Please back away and let me go...

I can't my darling, I love you so. Oh oh...

Tell me am I right to think that there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride and slowly growing old together...

Don't you feed me lines about some idealistic future...
Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures.

I admit that I have made mistakes
And... I swear I'll never wrong you again...

You've got allure I can't deny,
But... You've had your chance, so say goodbye...

Say goodbye....

- The Postal Service, "Nothing Better"

The italics are a man singing. The bold italics are a woman.