The stars that night shone wildly bright outside,
but you stayed in and stared the night away.
At shelves of books lined wall to wall,
you soaked 'em up from spring to fall, since the seventies.
And you've been dreaming of big big things.
Meanwhile, you're weaker in the knees.
Just like they said it would be,
just like you read it would be.
And once or twice distractions came
to thaw the ice and gave you chances, plenty.
And you'd muster fire for sometimes even months,
but never quite enough to light it up.
So they'd marry men and make handsome babies.
And that's the last you would hear of them.
Just like they said it would be,
just like you read it would be.