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Tell me is love still a popular suggestion,
Or merely an obsolete art?
Forgive me for asking this simple question,
I'm unfamiliar with his heart,
I'm a stranger here myself.

Why is wrong to murmur I adore him
When it's shamefully obvious I do?
Does love embarrass him or does it bore him?
I'm only waiting for my cue,
I'm a stranger here myself.

I dream of a day, a gay warm day,
With my face between his hands;
Have I missed the path, have I gone astray?
I ask, and no one understands

Love me or leave me, that seems to be the question
I don't know the tactics to use,
But if he should offer a personal suggestion,
How could I possibly refuse,
When I'm a stanger here myself?

Please tell me, tell a stranger
By curiousity goaded,
Is there really any danger
That love is now outmoded?
I'm interested especially
In knowing why you waste it
True romance is so fleshly
With what have you replaced it?
What is your latest foible?
Is Gin Rummy more exquisite?
Is skiing more enjoyable?
For heaven's sake, what is it?

I can't believe that love has lost its glamour,
That passion is really passé;
If gender is just a term in grammar
How can I ever find my way,
When I'm a stranger here myself

How can he ignore my available condition?
Why these Victorian views?
You see here before you
A woman with a mission,
I must discover the key to his ignition,
And then if he should make a diplomatic proposition,
How could I possibly refuse,
How could I possibly refuse,
When I'm a stranger here myself?

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