He's not just a man, he's a big collection of many things And he sings his songs for you while he sings the blues to me And his wife doesn't understand So she tries her hand to break his heart in two Anything she can do to lose him He's a troubadour, he's a symptom of our times Bigamy's last pin-up boy, caught in problematic rhymes And his wife has always said it's better to be stuck inside your head Than in someone else's bed It leaves you cold Well it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swinging style He's a regular, in the Presidential Suite Minibars and miniskirts, he always leaves them incomplete There's a time and place for diamond bracelets It's not here and it's not now Anyway, anyhow He leaves her cold Well it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swinging style There's a fairy tale in England but it's over And she's asking why There's no joking in this room so throw another drink and tell another lie He's just half a man, half a man and half asleep As his wife loses command of the company he keeps There's a spirit of ecstasy that rollers never had, it's not okay At least it's not cliché to lose your mind Well it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swinging style Well it don't mean a thing if you don't wear that ring in style