I have to admit that I am one of the many
Who thought that a guitar would win him a lady
My teenage years, they were a feminine drought,
And I thought that a serenade would help out
And it seemed to be working for a couple of years –
I wrote a few songs and they wrought a few tears
But when I hit my twenties, it ran out of steam
I seemed to be suffering from romantic fatigue

And I never know which song I should play her –
Each melody is a memory of a not-forgotten failure
So when I get out my guitar tonight to do what I do,
Remember, I probably didn't write this song for you

So as I have mentioned, the shelf-life was short
The scheme wasn't working, despite what I thought
The ladies all left me alone in the end,
So I had to switch all the names around and then sing it again

And every life-long love, and every best friend,
Slipped away into the past
Take my words with caution – I can't pretend that you're the first,
You won't be the last

I never know which song I should play her –
Each melody is a memory of a not-forgotten failure
So when I get out my guitar tonight to do what I do,
Remember, I probably didn't write this song,
No I certainly didn't write this song,
No I never, never wrote a song for you