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Nothing' but a fling.
Why do you follow me, boy?
As though in that bed, my heart was born!
I have known long,
and long before you’
Of who I am, and of what I thought
So why act as though I owe you boy?
your touch is not
of wick nor word…
And I remain free and light as the day ‘
No matter what you prize’
Or cuss or say
So I may have said ’love’ yesterday
And looked at you with gentle eye
But all of this is fickle, boy
When words and looks so often lie
If love is breathe upon a lip’
And nothing more
After the kiss..
Why look me up so often, boy?
Asking of my life, and my whereabouts!
As though I were a newspaper
A piece for you to read-about.
When I am none of your concern-
And better you know
Sooner you learn
I will build a wall around myself
Before I let you in
Why talk to me with scorn my dear
If we were nothing but a fling?
