IT’S PROBABLY ME
If the night turned cold and the stars looked down
And you hug yourself on the cold cold ground
You wake the morning in a stranger’s coat
No one would you see
You ask yourself, who’d watch for me
My only friend, who could it be
It’s hard to say it
I hate to say it, but it’s probably me
When your belly’s empty and the hunger’s so real
And you’re too proud to beg and to dumb to steal
You search the city for your only friend
No one would you see
You ask yourself, who could it be
A solitary voice to speak out and set you free
I hate to say it
I hate to say it, but it’s probably me
You’re not the easiest person I ever got to know
And it’s hard for us both to let our feelings show
Some would say I should let you go your way
You’ll only make me cry
If there’s one guy, just one guy
Who’d lay down his life for you and die
It’s hard to say it
I hate to say it, but it’s probably me
When the world’s gone crazy and it makes no sense
There’s only one voice that comes to your defense
The jury’s out and your eyes search the room
And one friendly face is all you need to see
If there’s one guy, just one guy
Who’d lay down his life for you and die
It’s hard to say it
I hate to say it, but it’s probably me
I hate to say it
I hate to say it, but it’s probably me
SEVEN DAYS
“Seven Days” was all she wrote
A kind of ultimatum note
She gave to me, she gave to me
When I thought the field had cleared
It seems another suit appeared
To challenge me, woe is me
Though I hate to make a choice
My options are decreasing mostly rapidly
Well we’ll see
I don’t think she’d bluff this time
I really have to make her mine
It’s plain to see
It’s him or me
Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late
The fact he’s over six feet ten
Might instill fear in other men
But not in me, The mighty Flea (flee?)
Ask if I am mouse or man
The mirror squeaked, away I ran
He’ll murder me in time for his tea
Does it bother me at all
My rival is Neanderthal it makes me think
Perhaps I need a drink
IQ is not problem here
We won’t be playing scrabble for her hand I fear
I need that beer
Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late
Seven days will quickly go
The fact remains, I love her so
Seven days, so many ways
But I can’t run away
Monday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late
Do I have to tell a story
Of a thousand rainy days since we first met
It’s a big enough umbrella
But it’s always me that ends up getting wet
SHAPE OF MY HEART
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn’t play for the money he wins
He doesn’t play for respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of a probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
I know that the Spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the Clubs are weapons of war
I know that Diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
He may play the Jack of Diamonds
He may lay the Queen of Spades
He may conceal a King in his hand
While the memory of it fades
I know that the Spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the Clubs are weapons of war
I know that Diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
And if I told you that I loved you
You’d maybe think there’s something wrong
I’m not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who smile are lost
I know that the Spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the Clubs are weapons of war
I know that Diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
SHE’S TOO GOOD
FOR ME
She don’t like to hear me sing
She don’t want no diamond ring
She don’t want to drive my car
She won’t let me go that far
She don’t like the way I look
She don’t like the things I cook
She don’t like the way I play
She don’t like the things I say
But oh the games we play
She’s too good for me
She’s too good for me
She don’t like the jokes I make
She don’t like the drugs I take
She don’t like the friends I got
She don’t like my friends a lot
She don’t like the clothes I wear
She don’t like the way I stare
She don’t like the tales I tell
She don’t like the way I smell
But oh the games we play
She’s too good for me
She’s too good for me
Would she prefer it if I washed myself more often than I do
Would she prefer it if I took her to an opera or two
I could distort myself to be the perfect man
She might prefer me as I am
She don’t want to meet my folks
She don’t want to hear my jokes
She don’t want to fix my tie
She don’t even want to try
She don’t like the books I read
She don’t like the way I feed
She don’t want to save my life
She don’t want to be my wife
But oh the games we play
She’s too good for me
She’s too good for me
http://www.newwave.net/~ghawk/sting/sting.html
http://www.ampm.co.uk/artists/police/police.htm
http://www.fastsys.co.kr/~jwpark/Outside/Music/sting.html
http://www.gradpula.com/maestral/sting/index.shtml
http://www.compass-ent.com/music/sting4.html
http://www.sting.demon.nl/