Was it worthy, my life to tell?
Did I, in the end, live it well?
Should I reveal each time I fell
Under a girl's magic spell?
Should I say that I was clay
Molded by some other's way?
Or how I kept my fears at bay
By driving loneliness away?
Or should I tell a different fable?
Of a life where I was able
To live outside a woman's stable
And eat and drink at just one table.
But how could I, it's just not true
For I kept my heart from turning blue
By choosing to keep it's rosy hue,
The color of my love for you.