Sometimes I wring my hands and wonder, sometimes I hang my head and cry. The inventory of my attributes as a mate, nay even a date, is skimpy and I'm being generous here. If we're dealing with self- efficacy here, I come by it honestly.
Cooties? Apparently.
Don't good intentions count for anything anymore?
Lust? Well, a little, yeah.
I'll bet if I were rich and had a red sports car I'd get somewhere. Oh, and if I danced better.
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