~Match Point~

She plays tennis with my heart,
and the score is forty-love.
When I first grabbed my racquet,
she was gentle as a dove.

Then came the lobs and volleys,
ground strokes and forehand smashes.
Passing shots rip down the line
reducing me to ashes.

The match has been very short
Six-One, Six-Two, now Five-O.
I can't even hold my serve,
and I'm feeling very low.

So it's forty-love -- match point!
I stand there, my heart in hand,
and she serves up one more ace.
I'm done, alone, lose again.


Music is Nowhere Man"

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