8. History of romance

In the history of romance
Of which I have great knowledge
There are those who sow wild oats
And those who stir the porridge
And until now
I’ve had no great involvement
You’ve turned my head
You’ve warmed my heart
And of the rest … enough said

From age to age the tale unfolds
With just a few names altered
From Adam’s Eve to Josephine
The beat has rarely faltered
And now I find
I'm pulled into the whirlpool
I offer love
My honour too
Can you resist my gallant honour?

My love is like a billing cooing pigeon
It scratches here and there amongst the corn
I don’t really like to speak of passion
Like an unkissed frog I'm not sure what it spawns

All around this beauteous world
We see that love’s displayed
In sculpture, ballet, wet cement
It’s always boy meets maid
Now in my own way
I’d like to add a voice
In tortured sighs
This message lies
Well, alright … I love you

My love is like a bunch of paper flowers
Left in the rain it cannot fail to wilt
I’m not really very good at passion
But let’s not cry over milk that’s spilt

History as we know
Is a matter of interpretation
There are many different stands
And many more relations
But here I stand
I want it clearly said
I’ve lived for real
Did not conceal
Allowed another in my heart