And Here We Are

You're not my type.
It's as simple as that to defend
And easier to hide, because
I'm not lying.

You're not conventionally attractive.
You're not conventional at all.
And I suppose I should be thankful
Because if you were, in the lecture hall,
I wouldn't have noticed you at all.

And no matter, here we are,
Mismatched and moulded.
My hearing is ruined
From turning out to see your band
Even though I hate your music.
And though you don't understand
You follow me and my camera over mountains
Just to be bored.

And there it is, and here we are
Unromantic and realistic.
I want your feet off the desk, but in the room,
And you stop the party to take me home
Though it's your best friend's wedding.

You're not my type.
I'm not yours.
Mismatched and moulded, here we are,
Somewhere in the middle
And when we aren't fighting
Pulling faces
Groaning
And complaining to the rest of our lives,
We're laughing.