He started to woo her in a most peculiar way
The Librarian's dress was a fawnish shade of gray
The books he was to borrow he would surely never read
They were of an intellectual caliber
He hoped that she would see
He planned to take her home to bed some day
He'd smooth her goose bumped skin whilst she lay
But the unspoken truth they both knew
Whilst he'd dream of her often she would
Forget in just ten minutes
Her beauty has not truly been seen till
Her beauty's been seen by his tired eyes
Her tears have not truly been dried till her
Tears have been dried on his tattered shirt sleeves
Her body has not truly been stripped till her
Clothes have been ripped by his nail bitten fingers
Her beauty has not truly been seen till her
Beauty's been seen by his tired eyes
He was beginning to irritate so she made him go away
The smallest cruelest insults she ignored his subtle ways
The deftly silence let him know his efforts were in vain
Did the thoughts ever exist and if so could he find them
(And oh, oh the loneliest of nights, he will never hold her tight
He will never kiss her eyelids)