"Thank you, please,
But your flattery,
It's truly not becoming me,
Your eyes are poor, you're blind you see,
No beauty could have come from me And still to me,
I'm sick, lonely
No laurel tree, just green envy
Will my number come up eventually
Like love's some kind of lottery
Where you scratch and see what's underneath
It's sorry, just one cherry
I'll play again, get lucky
"Thank you, please, But your flattery, It's truly not becoming me, Your eyes are poor, you're blind you see, No beauty could have come from me And still to me,
I'm sick, lonely No laurel tree, just green envy Will my number come up eventually Like love's some kind of lottery Where you scratch and see what's underneath It's sorry, just one cherry I'll play again, get lucky