| Song | Little Round Mirrors |
| Artist | Harvey Danger |
| Album | Temptation (Music from the Showtime Series Californication, First Season) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| All alone | |
| On the floor | |
| Next to your twin-bed box-spring and mattress | |
| The door Is ajar | |
| From afar | |
| You can hear bands practicing | |
| And When they dream they all | |
| Dream of somebody like you | |
| Somebody who takes what they make | |
| Twice as seriously as they could ever hope to do | |
| And when you dream | |
| You dream of a day... | |
| When you find something you could love half as much | |
| As you love all your little round mirrors | |
| See yourself reflected in one, theres a hole in the middle | |
| You can't seem to fill | |
| Bring them home | |
| Watch them go | |
| All you know is you hope they'll hurry back | |
| And you cry | |
| Then you lie your frail body down | |
| Like a penny on a railroad track | |
| And even if they stay in touch | |
| The past stays in the past | |
| But every time | |
| You crash a little bit harder than the last | |
| And every time you crash don't you | |
| Wanna find something you could love | |
| Half as much as you love all your little round mirrors | |
| See yourself reflected in one | |
| There's a hole in the middle you can't seem to fill | |
| A shooting star is | |
| A little piece of | |
| Cosmic debris desperately wanting to fall to earth | |
| It doesn't get too far | |
| It's not a real star | |
| It's hardly even worth footnotes in your memoir | |
| Shoulder to shoulder | |
| Up on our tip-toes | |
| Chewing our fingers | |
| And craning our necks | |
| Just to see | |
| Quite the collection | |
| Divide by section | |
| It's just a surrogate connection leaving you all alone | |
| On the floor next to your twin-bed box-spring and mattress | |
| The door Still ajar | |
| There you are and now you're coming to stay until | |
| You can find someone who will love you as much | |
| As you love all your little round mirrors | |
| Murdering your time in cold blood | |
| There's a hole in the middle you can't seem to fill |
| All alone | |
| On the floor | |
| Next to your twinbed boxspring and mattress | |
| The door Is ajar | |
| From afar | |
| You can hear bands practicing | |
| And When they dream they all | |
| Dream of somebody like you | |
| Somebody who takes what they make | |
| Twice as seriously as they could ever hope to do | |
| And when you dream | |
| You dream of a day... | |
| When you find something you could love half as much | |
| As you love all your little round mirrors | |
| See yourself reflected in one, theres a hole in the middle | |
| You can' t seem to fill | |
| Bring them home | |
| Watch them go | |
| All you know is you hope they' ll hurry back | |
| And you cry | |
| Then you lie your frail body down | |
| Like a penny on a railroad track | |
| And even if they stay in touch | |
| The past stays in the past | |
| But every time | |
| You crash a little bit harder than the last | |
| And every time you crash don' t you | |
| Wanna find something you could love | |
| Half as much as you love all your little round mirrors | |
| See yourself reflected in one | |
| There' s a hole in the middle you can' t seem to fill | |
| A shooting star is | |
| A little piece of | |
| Cosmic debris desperately wanting to fall to earth | |
| It doesn' t get too far | |
| It' s not a real star | |
| It' s hardly even worth footnotes in your memoir | |
| Shoulder to shoulder | |
| Up on our tiptoes | |
| Chewing our fingers | |
| And craning our necks | |
| Just to see | |
| Quite the collection | |
| Divide by section | |
| It' s just a surrogate connection leaving you all alone | |
| On the floor next to your twinbed boxspring and mattress | |
| The door Still ajar | |
| There you are and now you' re coming to stay until | |
| You can find someone who will love you as much | |
| As you love all your little round mirrors | |
| Murdering your time in cold blood | |
| There' s a hole in the middle you can' t seem to fill |
| All alone | |
| On the floor | |
| Next to your twinbed boxspring and mattress | |
| The door Is ajar | |
| From afar | |
| You can hear bands practicing | |
| And When they dream they all | |
| Dream of somebody like you | |
| Somebody who takes what they make | |
| Twice as seriously as they could ever hope to do | |
| And when you dream | |
| You dream of a day... | |
| When you find something you could love half as much | |
| As you love all your little round mirrors | |
| See yourself reflected in one, theres a hole in the middle | |
| You can' t seem to fill | |
| Bring them home | |
| Watch them go | |
| All you know is you hope they' ll hurry back | |
| And you cry | |
| Then you lie your frail body down | |
| Like a penny on a railroad track | |
| And even if they stay in touch | |
| The past stays in the past | |
| But every time | |
| You crash a little bit harder than the last | |
| And every time you crash don' t you | |
| Wanna find something you could love | |
| Half as much as you love all your little round mirrors | |
| See yourself reflected in one | |
| There' s a hole in the middle you can' t seem to fill | |
| A shooting star is | |
| A little piece of | |
| Cosmic debris desperately wanting to fall to earth | |
| It doesn' t get too far | |
| It' s not a real star | |
| It' s hardly even worth footnotes in your memoir | |
| Shoulder to shoulder | |
| Up on our tiptoes | |
| Chewing our fingers | |
| And craning our necks | |
| Just to see | |
| Quite the collection | |
| Divide by section | |
| It' s just a surrogate connection leaving you all alone | |
| On the floor next to your twinbed boxspring and mattress | |
| The door Still ajar | |
| There you are and now you' re coming to stay until | |
| You can find someone who will love you as much | |
| As you love all your little round mirrors | |
| Murdering your time in cold blood | |
| There' s a hole in the middle you can' t seem to fill |