Love might be theater, or love might be a play,
But you can’t escape Saint Valentine’s Day.
You might get together with the girls and dish:
But talking cannot hide your secret wish.
Better to lie on your solitary bed
And let your wish play out in your head—
But how long can that wish, as a wish, stay
Before you get morbid and sad?
No matter what you do, no matter what you say,
You can’t escape Saint Valentine’s Day.
It’s only a day, a mark on the calendar,
You are wise, you are free; to you it shouldn’t matter,
And all of this nonsense will soon go away.
So why are you sad on Saint Valentine’s Day?
