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I have to admit that |
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I am one of the many who thought that a guitar would win him a lady. |
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My teenage years, they were a feminine drought, and |
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I thought that a seranade would help out. |
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It seemed to be working for a couple of years - |
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I wrote a few songs and they wrought a few tears - |
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But when I hit my twenties, it ran out of steam. |
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I seemed to be suffering from romantic fatigue. |
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And I never know which song |
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I should play her, each melody is |
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A memory of a not-forgotten failure. |
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So when I get out my guita tonight, to do what |
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I do, remember: |
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I probably didn't write this song for you. |
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And so as |
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I have mentioned, the shelf-life was short - the plan wasn't working, despite what |
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I thought. |
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My ladies all left me alone in the end, so |
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I had to switch the names around and sing it again. |
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Every life-long-love, and every best friend, slips away into the past. |
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Take my words with caution, |
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I can't pretend that you're the first. |
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You won't be the last. |
