Is Love Something That Only Happens to Other People?
I don’t know if I’ll give someone a very pricey wedding ring
I don’t know if I’ll give anyone the chance to hear me sing
I don’t know if I’ll ever get married underneath a steeple
Is love something that truly only happens to lucky other people?
I don’t know if I’ll find a woman who will ever be impressed
If I did, would she think that I’d only want to see her undressed?
The mere thought just paralyzes me right to the point of sighing
Would someone put up with me even when I’m desperately lying?
Love is for the daring, it’s for anyone who admires Evil Knievel
But I’m the stupid bloke who once thought that sex was merely evil
On days like today I have to wonder if I’m really quite so very terrible
Would anyone want to put up with me whenever I’m this unbearable?
Why am I moping about and simply just want to unleash a sigh?
I’d like to think that I’m decent and am quite a reasonable guy
But even though you may think I’m silly and simply want to groan
Is it any wonder that it might be easier if I were only just left alone?
So I don’t know if I’ll ever give someone a very pricey wedding ring
I don’t know if I’ll ever give anyone the chance to hear me poorly sing
I don’t know if I’ll ever get married underneath some kind of steeple
I simply have to wonder: is love something that only happens to other people?