Here's one for the unloved, the quiet majority. She called on me about the weight upon her shoulders, About her absent dead-beat father, And about the things he didn't tell her. She said, "you're such a sweet thing, and i thank you for listening." You see, she keeps me on a list of Pseudo suitor alternates to be there at her Beck and call to raise her fragile Confidence. (and i'd be there in five minutes) She caught me in the rain, out collecting worms. I said, "nobody likes me, everybody hates me." She said, "that's not true." And it's one for the unloved, Two for the blow, from the head to the heart, of the Oblivious heart-breaker. She doesn't seem to realize that the crumbs of conversations That she tosses out like swatting at flies Keep me alive. in fact, they feed me for weeks. Up on the corner of main and second avenue, I'm going to find me something beautiful. Here's one for the unloved Who allowed someone To direct their self-esteem like an orchestra, Until all the swells and fades made you nauseous. Now i know this town can feel like the whole world, but its not. And i'm sure there's someone, Somewhere out there, who holds the cup into which you can be poured. So she wrote me a thank-you card. and i wrote her a record.