Intellectual Suicide
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Intellectual Suicide
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Why can't I be like other people and have somebody to call my own?
Or is it that friendship and love can be born but never shown?
Is there a girl who I could love, who I could now call mine?
Better than yours, a girl I know who will all of you outshine?
Maybe I'm not blessed with a fortunate personality
Or my life is boring because it contains too much of my morality.
Should I think in any terms or just be quite sincere
To just one girl who I don't know yet who will be to me so dear?
Where do I go to find someone of stunning looks and stunning charm
Who loves me as much as I love her and can bring to me no harm?
I think of all those people about whom I've ever known.
By none of them was any interest in myself ever shown.
I do not know if it is true that people really do love me,
And anyway what of advantage would anyone ever in me see?
My depression has set in for Easter - you can see me getting worse.
The lines are getting longer here, more frantic and more terse.
I must find somebody who must find me and we must find each other soon
For there is less time left at the end of each day until the end of June.
I tell you now I just don't know to whom I ought to turn;
After all my failures in my past some success I'll surely earn.