A thousand violins will play it for you
While you sit and roll your deep blue eyes
A thousand to win, a thousand you lose
But I'll be your consolation prize
All you do is sigh

I wore my frings like Roger McGuinn's
I was hoping to impress
So frightfully camp, it made you laugh
Tomorrow I'll buy myself a dress
How ludicrous

I don't mean to pry but didn't that guy
Crumple up your face a thousand times?
He made you cry
I'll be your consolation prize
Although I know
I'll never be man enough for you

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): EDWYN STEPHEN COLLINS