Write most of the songs I do
 And it's clear that no one will ever
 Sing them quite the way I do
 I think tonight I'll sit down and write
 A heartfelt line or two
 And if they turn out good enough
 I owe every word to you

 To the kid I thought was a little too young
 To know what sadness was
 Who took me out when I was down
 And set out to find the cause
 Of why the lady had the blues
 And seemed on the verge of tears
 I tell you that kid must have been around
 For a hundred and fifty years

 And to the tough guy blonde with the front tooth gone
 And ships all over his chest
 Who approached me out on the promenade
 Of the beach heading into the west
 His friends lay around on the muscleman lawn
 Like a drunken pirate band
 But he turned into a gentleman
 Called me a lady and kissed my hand

 Though the songwriters of the industry
 Write most of the songs I do
 And it's clear that no one will ever
 Sing them quite the way I do
 I think tonight I'll sit down and write
 A heartfelt line or two
 And if they turn out good enough
 I owe every word to you

 To the man and the woman who threw me a glance
 As they picnicked by the sea
 And returned their gaze to the kid and the food
 So as not to bother me
 They got up to leave and the woman looked on
 As the man leaned down to say
 "You've always meant so much to us
 Don't want to bother you and have a nice day"

 And to the band of gypsies I call friends
 Who speak so carefully
 To their friend with a life unlike their own
 In its strange complexities
 Who have the patience of the saints
 When I've been down for a spell
 I wish it were a whole lot easier
 To find the words to wish them well

 Though the songwriters of the industry
 Write most of the songs I do
 And it's clear that no one will ever
 Sing them quite the way I do
 I think tonight I'll sit down and write
 A heartfelt line or two
 And if they turn out good enough
 I owe every word to you