I don't believe everything happens for a reason To us romantics out here, that amounts to high treason I don't go in for your star-crossed lovers In the heart of a skeptic There's a question that still hovers near (Andrew Bird:) For it begs the question How did I ever find you Now you got me writing love songs With a common refrain like this one here, baby (Fiona Apple:) And all your left handed kisses Were just prelude to another Prelude to your backhanded love song, baby (Andrew Bird:) But it begs a question How did I ever find you Drifting gently through the gyre Of the great Sargasso sea, Atlantic Ocean Got me writing love songs With a common refrain like this one here (Fiona Apple:) The point your song here misses Is that if you really loved me You'd risk more than a few 50 cent Words in your backhanded love song (Andrew Bird & Fiona Apple:) For it begs the question How did I ever find you Drifting gently through the gyre Of the great Sargasso sea, Atlantic Ocean The point your song here misses You got me writing love songs Is that you really love me With a common refrain like this one here, baby Is prelude to another of your backhanded love songs Now it's time for a handsome little bookend Now it's time to tie up all the loose ends Am I still a skeptic or did you make me a believer? If you hesitate, you'll hear the click of the receiver