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A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,

WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC




JEALOUS AS CAN BE

I thought that I was grown,
That I could stand to be alone;
To any pleasure that youíve known
I could agree.
Oh, when I see you holding tight
Another lover in the night,
Iíd like to feel itís quite
All right with me.

But itís not all right with me.
Iím as jealous as can be.
I pretend not to see
And wonder why.
Oh, itís not for me to know
What it is that moves me so,
But if you ever go,
Iím gonna cry.

You tell me that you love me
But I canít tell if itís true.
You treat me like you want me
To wait in line for you.
Oh, are you just a flirt?
Am I chasing just a skirt?
I try to smile on bravely
But it hurts.

My futureís unsure,
And Iím feeling insecure.
Your presence is sure
To still haunt me.
Oh, Iíd come back once more
If you would love me like before,
And if I were sure
You still want me.

Madrid, New York, 1976



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