Please sit here with me now and try, my love,
to see what I see. Use my eyes, my love.
I see a girl looking down at her shoes.
What do you think that implies, my love?
I see a man light a smoke, drinking booze.
Is he a bad boy or bad guy, my love?
He asks if she wants to go for a cruise –
They drove around then got high, my love.
Before long they both had matching tattoos:
his name was scribed on her thigh, my love!
First permanent ink, but then a fresh bruise.
While all she could do was stand by, my love,
he took off all night and she took abuse.
Why would he hit and run? Why, my love?
To her parents, she made an excuse.
She crossed her fingers to lie, my love.
Depression really, she called it “the blues.”
Far beyond a frown and a sigh, my love.
She drew the line the day he accused:
“You’re cheating on me on the sly, my love!”
She fired back – “This can’t be what I choose!”
She packed a bag and said “Good bye, my love!”
I’m the girl, here’s my bag, I’m cutting loose.
Now you can be the one to cry, my love.