Once upon a time, there was a young doe-eyed beauty of rising Hollywood fame. An inspiration for deadpan girls with cutesy fashion sense and a taste for retro indie-pop, she had everything but her Prince Charming. One day she met a like-minded lad, bespectacled and slightly nerdy, but nonetheless a sensitive troubadour of rising hipster fame. He claimed he would "possess" her heart; she batted her eyes and purred, "You really got a hold on me."
The lovers waltzed into a whirlwind romance -- "no perfect truths, just our love," he ascertained; "I was made for you," she coyly replied. Their courtship led to marriage, but, alas, no baby in a carriage. Feelings started to wane, hearts began to splinter -- distance and fame proved to in fact be a perfect truth of despair. "I should have known better," she sang; "You can do better than me," he sulked, and soon they were off on their own ... single, rich and still quite beautiful.
Thus is the tragic tale of dear Ben Gibbard and Zooey Deschanel, best told through the former lovebirds' tuneful poetry, wherein they unabashedly sing of love and, ultimately, loss. Get yourself a box of tissues, kids.