LYRIC FOR SALE

By Howard Camner

She talks to herself
She talks to the trees
She even talks to her own knobby knees
But she don't talk to me
She won't talk to me

She talks to her mirror
Has conversations with wine
It couldn't be clearer that I'm just not her kind
She don't talk to me
She won't talk to me

(Bridge)

I go through the paper
Try to find some news
A variety of topics
I'd even let her choose
But she don't talk to me
So I stare at my shoes
'cause she won't talk to me

(Verses)

One time I overheard her talking to a door
I must really be an award-winning bore
'cause she don't talk to me
She won't talk to me

She talks to the neighbors, the mailman and her cat
One time I saw her whispering to her new bathroom mat
She don't talk to me
She won't talk to me

It shouldn't take much to say what's in her head
but I guess she'd rather chat with her pillow instead
She don't talk to me
She won't talk to me

(Grumble and fade)