Love of my life, you’ve hurt me. You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me. Love of my life, can’t you see? Bring it back, bring it back, and don’t take it away from me, because you don’t know what it means to me.
You can have everything in the world and still be the loneliest man. And that is the most bitter type of loneliness, success has brought me world idolization and millions of pounds. But it’s prevented me from having the one thing we all need: A loving, ongoing relationship.
Does it mean this, does it mean that that’s all anybody wants to know? I’d say what any decent poet would say if anyone dared ask him to analyze his work: if you see it, darling, then it’s there!
