Life's to short to play silly games,
But beware of the player's,
Cause they'll play anyway
They'll take your heart with their old leather glove
And toss it out in the field, long
There it will lie till fate finds the player
Who'll pick it up and decide what to do with it later
Cause he's busy now, He and his mates
Working out a game plan, drinking till late
You wait by the phone, wait for his call
It gets to midnight, and you think he won't call at all
You're tossing and turning in your feversish sleep
Then you hear the phone ringing, you jump to your feet
He slurs in the phone, he loves you, he wants to come over
For once it would be nice, if he'd call me when he's sober
But a player he is, that's all he'll ever be!
And really aren't I worth more? Heavens Be!
I tell him, 'Do me a favour if you want to come round? '
Take a hike and jump off a cliff, if there's one around!
And if you can't find a cliff in your drunken state
Do the world a favour and jump in the lake!
by Becca - 30 October,2006
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.