| They’re writing songs of love but not for me
|
| A lucky star’s above but not for me
|
| With love to lead the way
|
| I’ve found more clouds of gray
|
| Than any Russian play could guarantee
|
| I was a fool to fall and get that way
|
| Height-ho, alas and also lack-a-day
|
| Although I can’t dismiss the memory of his kiss
|
| I guess he’s not for me
|
| They’re writing songs of love but not for me
|
| A lucky star’s above but not for me
|
| With love to lead the way
|
| I’ve found more clouds of gray
|
| Than any Russian play could guarantee
|
| I was a fool to fall and get that way
|
| Height-ho, alas and also, lack-a-day
|
| Although I can’t dismiss the memory of his kiss
|
| I guess he’s not, I guess he’s not, I guess he’s not
|
| Not for me |