Dysphoria
This is the way your life will go
Like plucking petals from a rose
Like falling down a minute cliff
It's what you'll find, if you seek
Soft as silk against her cheek
"When we meet, how I'll love you,"
But then of course you never do
Six months later, with a moan
He's engaged and do you mind
You shrug into the telephone
Because you know that you could find
Strangers that would understand
Would look at you and hold your hand
Say "You don't even need a man,
Not with a bed like that."