Lyrics Married Love - Audra McDonald

Married Love

Married love, married love
Here’s my strategy of married love
If it seems your hopes are growing dim
Don’t forget that you chose him
Don’t forget that you chose him
So he must be wonderful, right?
If your brain rules your heart
That’s a problem, baby, from the start
You cannot trust your brain
It’s the brain that goes insane, and not the heart
No, not your heart
You’re a woman
With a thousand little pockets in her being
You tuck away all the little pains for other days
A man doesn’t have those little pockets in his being
His system of emotions is no complicated maze
He’s straighter and simpler than you
And to love him, you must be simpler, too
Which is not an easy thing to do
So, what to do?
Go back to a time when you first felt love
Before you played the game
Go back to a time before you learned
How to bait, and then humiliate
And when to delegate the blame
You were young and felt your love
And it was wonderful
He noticed that you loved him
And yes, he was wonderful
You didn’t demand or second guess
Or thought in terms of more or less
Your heart put on its Sunday dress
And you were wonderful
But you grew up
Not every day is Sunday, your Sunday dress comes off
In your fairy tale hungry mind, you’re disappointed
You analyze and question, someone must be at fault
And your fairy tale prince becomes the one anointed
He may not be the reason, he just happens to be there
And the Sundays turn to weekdays, and your joy turns to despair
He’s oblivious, like an innocent boring into rotten fruit
You stock your ammunition, find your target, and you shoot
You lose what makes you feminine
It’s the only thing you’ve truly owned
And there you are, discontented
With the prince whom you’ve dethroned
You were right in saying, «forever after»
Cinderella-minded, as you are
The fairy tale leaves you with a beautiful sentence
About happiness ever after
But you forget that before it came to that poetic ending
There were dangers, and sorrows, and hardships
You will remember your instinct’s antennae
Your antennae will tell you many things:
What he likes and dislikes
His desires for the day
When to talk, when to listen
When to say what you must say
How is work is or isn’t
When to kiss him, or when not
When to praise him, or critique him
Either slightly or a lot
Don’t treat him like an object
Like his toothbrush or his comb
Just because his things are near you
Doesn’t mean he won’t leave home
Be his mother, his child
The moon to his sun, the silver to his gold
Grow kinder together, grow closer together
And together you’ll grow old
Be his life, be life
And, above all, don’t interrupt or correct them
When they’re telling one of their stories
Let them tell their story
Married love, married love
That’s my strategy of married love
If it seems your hopes are growing dim
Don’t forget that you chose him
Don’t forget that you chose him
So he must be wonderful, right?
Right