My face is finished, my body's gone.
And I can't help but think standin' up here
in all this applause and gazin' down

at all the young and the beautiful.
With their questioning eyes.
That I must above all things love myself.


I saw a girl in the crowd,
I ran over I shouted out,

I asked if I could take her out,
But she said that she didn't want to.


I changed the sheets on my bed,
I combed the hairs across my head,
I sucked in my gut and still she said

That she just didn't want to.

I read her Eliot, read her Yeats,

I tried my best to stay up late,
I fixed the hinges on her gate,
But still she just never wanted to.


I bought her a dozen snow-white doves,
I did her dishes in rubber gloves,

I called her Honeybee, I called her Love,
But she just still didn't want to.
She just never wants to.

Dammit!

I sent her every type of flower,

I played her guitar by the hour,
I patted her revolting little chihuahua,
But still she just didn't want to.


I wrote a song with a hundred lines,
I picked a bunch of dandelions,

I walked her through the trembling pines,
But she just even then didn't want to.
She just never wants to.


I thought I'd try another tack,
I drank a litre of cognac,

I threw her down upon her back,
But she just laughed and said
that she just didn't want to.


I thought I'd have another go,
I called her mah little O,

I felt like Marcel Marceau
must feel when she said
that she just never wanted to.

She just didn't want to.

I got the no #~!!@ blues.

I got the no #~!!@ blues.

I got the no #~!!@ blues.


I got the no #~!!@ blues.
I got the no #~!!@ blues.

I got the no #~!!@ blues.
I got the no #~!!@ blues.