I have to admit that I am one of the many who thought that a guitar would win him a lady
My teenage years, they were a feminine drought, and I thought that a seranade would help out
It seemed to be working for a couple of years - I wrote a few songs and they wrought a few tears
But when I hit my twenties, it ran out of steam. I seemed to be suffering from romantic fatigue

And I never know which song I should play her, each melody is
A memory of a not-forgotten failure
So when I get out my guita tonight, to do what I do, remember
I probably didn't write this song for you

And so as I have mentioned, the shelf-life was short - the plan wasn't working, despite what I thought
My ladies all left me alone in the end, so I had to switch the names around and sing it again

Every life-long-love, and every best friend, slips away into the past
Take my words with caution, I can't pretend that you're the first
You won't be the last