I don’t think you’re beautiful
And let me tell you why;
The word itself is passed around
By every other guy.
To as many girls, who equally
Have a keen wanting to hear
The same old word for years and years
Breathed so gently in their ear.
And you could like that too, I’m sure you do
If so, then come what may;
To me it seems it would construe
Your image with something so cliche.
You’re here and there, fiery and fair;
And there’s a mind still in that head
You keep pace with me, and stay smiling
When I’m sure you want me dead.
Don’t get me wrong, when I look into
Your eyes, my heart’s set free;
I smile, I laugh, see what I miss in you,
And that’s more than beautiful to me.