I learned the truth at seventeen,
that love was meant for beauty queens
and high school girls with clear skinned smiles
who married young and then retired.
The Valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth.
And those of us with ravaged faces,
lacking in the social graces,
desperately remained at home,
inventing lovers on the phone,
who called to say, come dance with me,
and murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems -- at seventeen.
A brown-eyed girl in hand-me-downs
whose name I never could pronounce,
said, pity please the ones who serve,
they only get what they deserve.
The rich relationed hometown queen
marries into what she needs
with a guarantee of company,
and haven for the elderly.
So remember those who win the game
lose the love they sought to gain
in debentures of quality,
and dubious integity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
in dull surprise when payment due
exceeds accounts received -- at seventeen.
Instrumental
TO THOSE OF US WHO KNEW THE PAIN
OF VALENTINES THAT NEVER CAME
AND
THOSE WHOSE NAMES WERE NEVER CALLED
WHEN CHOOSING SIDES FOR
BASKETBALL
IT WAS LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY
THE WORLD WAS YOUNGER THAN
TODAY
WHEN DREAMS WERE ALL THEY GAVE FOR FREE
TO UGLY DUCKLING GIRLS
LIKE ME
WE ALL PLAY THE GAME, AND WHEN WE DARE
WE CHEAT OURSELVES AT
SOLITAIRE
INVENTING LOVERS ON THE PHONE
REPENTING OTHER LIVES
UNKNOWN
THAT CALL AND SAY - COME ON, DANCE WITH ME
AND MURMUR VAGUE
OBSCENITIES
AT UGLY GIRLS LIKE ME, AT SEVENTEEN