The Love Groupie Strikes with a Vengeance
The story of a woman who believed in love
Holding hands and snuggling with her main man
Affectionate sometimes to a fault
Afraid that happiness would one day go out
Like the oven pilot light on an especially cold morning
Lighting it back up with anything flammable
Terrified of being blown apart by these reckless efforts
Leaving the house with either Einstein or Don King hair
A touch of ego and mad scientist trapped in a hairstyle
Saying everything without uttering a word
Felt transformed from an independent woman
Into a Beatles type super fan who passed out
Whenever they entered the room
Always on pins and needles until I see my favorite one again
Wondered when this sense of anticipation will maintain
Or subside when reality and routine set in
Enjoyed and feared these torrent of sentiments at same time
A conflict that has softened some as time went on
But hid her excitement to maintain a level of calm
That wasn't always there in retrospect
Tried hard to be the female equivalent of James Dean
A rebel with a cause and great 1950s style
Minus the ridiculous poodle skirts and Bobbysoxer vibe
Even drove a modified Porsche Spyder just like him
More cautious on the road now; maniacs on every corner
Able to laugh at the stand-up comic du jour's routine
But always shrouded in a cloud of smothering doubt
Uncertain at times that the intuition barometer worked
Searching for a happy medium between devoted girlfriend
And separately confident individual with stories to tell
Sometimes felt like the least interesting person in the room
A lot more introspective than before; less focused on what's tangible
Ready to find solid footing in life and in love
Know that this relationship is the real deal
Don't want to mess it up being a maniacal enthusiast
Working on dialing it down a few notches
While not sacrificing on what made it great
Time will tell to see what formula worked best.
