You’ve told me too much of your past.
In one breath is our possible future.
In the next are your most recent exploits.
But still I say, let the die be cast.
I’m not the romantic type, it’s true,
I want nothing of that frivolous sap.
And often I’ve seen you’re a rake and a fake
Yet I find I expect loyalty from you.
Why is it that I’m willing to stay?
I must be an emotional masochist
Were I one to allow myself to feel that is.
It’s safer to lock my heart away.