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diary |
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bread |
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I found her diary underneath a tree. |
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and started reading about me |
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The words she's written took me by surpise, |
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you'd never read them in her eyes. |
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They said that she had found the love she waited for. |
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Wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it. |
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When she confronted with the writing there, |
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simply pretended not to care. |
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I passed it off as just in keeping with |
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her total disconcerting air |
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and though she tried to hide |
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the love that she denied, |
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wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it. |
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And as I go through my life, I will give to her my wife, |
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all the sweet things that I can find. |
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I found her diary underneath a tree. |
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and started reading about me. |
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The words began stick and tears to flow. |
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Her meaning now was clear to see. |
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The love she'd waited for was someone else not me. |
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Wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it. |
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and as I go through my life, I will wish for her his wife |
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all the sweet things that she can find |
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all the sweet things they can find |
