I'd heard some rumours on the grape vine,
some whispers down the phone line,
and this digital age provides the ocular proof.
No man's amused of being jealous
but I dont get over Zallas(?).
What you do with your life now,
baby's up to you.
Sometimes a man can get stuck
when scared of being grown up,
confused by playing happy families.
So I accept that times are changing,
with people rearranging,
and there's a new man at your table
up in town pipe lane.
Now I don't know the details,
in fact I've not thought much on this at all,
and I would hate to cast dispersions
or be seen as cruel.
Who cares if his hair is thinning,
if he's home from work on time?
Perhaps he even likes a few new bands
he read about online.
So what if his eyes are close together,
some even like that better,
and if you can put up with that weird smile
then I'm sure it's fine.
So good luck with your new man,
I hope it goes to the plan
and that he's not run over by a train.
Because I bet he is a nice guy,
like a really, really nice guy,
in fact he's probably the exact opposite of me.
He's not fanatical, delusional, obsessive or emotional,
he wants a job, a house, a dog
when all I wanted was you.
And even if he doesn't know
the things that I know that you know I know,
he's compact and polite and drinks responsibly.
So good luck with your new man,
I'm sure it works out fine,
let's hope he isn't struck down with a plague.
So you can invite me to your wedding,
but from the front row you will see
that he might be a lot of things
but he's not me.