I saw my life in black and white.
I looked just like Cary Grant:
borrowed charm and borrowed polish, borrowed regal chin.
But you were trouble,
and I knew it.
You could’ve been Barbara Stanwyck’s twin. You pursed your lips, crisscrossed your legs, and invited me into sin.
I fell in love with the wrong girl.
Solomon had 700 wives
and over 1000 concubines, but, unlike me, his accountant found a way for him to afford it.
I fell in love with the wrong girl.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, have mercy.
I’ve read the Classic of Poetry,
songs of desperate, fawning men.
I should’ve been much more like Jesus, but I would not die for your sins.
I fell in love with the wrong girl. Have mercy on me.