|
My face is finished, my body's gone. |
|
And I can't help but think standin' up here |
|
in all this applause and gazin' down |
|
at all the young and the beautiful. |
|
With their questioning eyes. |
|
That I must above all things love myself. |
|
I saw a girl in the crowd, |
|
I ran over I shouted out, |
|
I asked if I could take her out, |
|
But she said that she didn't want to. |
|
I changed the sheets on my bed, |
|
I combed the hairs across my head, |
|
I sucked in my gut and still she said |
|
That she just didn't want to. |
|
I read her Eliot, read her Yeats, |
|
I tried my best to stay up late, |
|
I fixed the hinges on her gate, |
|
But still she just never wanted to. |
|
I bought her a dozen snow-white doves, |
|
I did her dishes in rubber gloves, |
|
I called her Honeybee, I called her Love, |
|
But she just still didn't want to. |
|
She just never wants to. |
|
Dammit! |
|
I sent her every type of flower, |
|
I played her guitar by the hour, |
|
I patted her revolting little chihuahua, |
|
But still she just didn't want to. |
|
I wrote a song with a hundred lines, |
|
I picked a bunch of dandelions, |
|
I walked her through the trembling pines, |
|
But she just even then didn't want to. |
|
She just never wants to. |
|
I thought I'd try another tack, |
|
I drank a litre of cognac, |
|
I threw her down upon her back, |
|
But she just laughed and said |
|
that she just didn't want to. |
|
I thought I'd have another go, |
|
I called her mah little O, |
|
I felt like Marcel Marceau |
|
must feel when she said |
|
that she just never wanted to. |
|
She just didn't want to. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
|
I got the no pussy blues. |
