How many times can you read that letter, and what do you need it for? Can't you see that the salutation has no meaning anymore? And you can't resurrect the body, and the closing's out of date and if you stumble upon an answer it will always be too late-- you better take that letter, put it in the boyfriend box. Are you still staring at that picture of someone who doesn't care? just like you're looking through a window at a world that isn't there? If you're trying to reconstruct it, it will only fall apart 'cause there's really nothing in it but your late, great, heart-- you better take that picture, put it in the boyfriend box. ooh la la, ooh la la, ooh la la There's something dark and dead buried in your head, and underneath your bed. You're still tempted to believe the world is true. You even almost do. Your little world is a little empty, but the memories never stop organizing themselves in layers, the most recent at the top. If you need to go any deeper you can dig them out again, just in case you need to be reminded of what a fool you've been-- you're gonna take those memories, put them in the boyfriend box, ooh la la, ooh la la, ooh la la