Sort of...

Baby you've got the sort of hands to rip me apart
And baby you've got the sort of face to start this old heart
But your eyes are warning me this early morning
That my love's too big for you my love
Baby you've got the sort of laugh that waters me
And makes me grow tall and strong and proud and flattens me
I find you stunning, but you are running me down
My love's too big for you my love
Baby you've got the sort of eyes that tell me tales
That your sort of mouth just will not say, the truth impales
That you don't need me, but you won't leave me
My love's too big for you my love

Tell me what to do to take away the you?

(Sort Of, Ingrid Michaelson)