Sometimes, I’ll hear a song,
like diamonds and rust by Joan Baez,

and I’ll wonder about the different women I loved, so much.
I always believe that now, if they ever think of me,
It’s only strong hatred they feel.

The men, who were friends are all dead.
So they don’t think anything of me.
Like a fool, all I ever wanted was one very loyal,
Very loving and close friend.
I guess I messed it all up. Over and Over.