There is a little high boy staring at me I don't know him And I'd wish he'd leave I don't like when people stare at me In Mexico or America Everyone stares at me every time I stay with mom Oh great! Now he's walking to me I want him gone But how? Here he comes, "Hi," he says "I'm Ben!" "Iris." I say So we talk Hm, Maybe Ben's not so bad after all
