The Year 1978

She was sad , oh so very sad .
She didn't mean to do it .

Certain thrills stay tucked within your limbs ,
They go no further then your fingers .
Moves your legs through the paces .

Other thrills knock you flat on your sheets,
On your bed in your room . If you falter --
They're gone , gone , gone .

Some thrills puff off your cigarette
And a crinkled face want to answer your phone .
Some hate door bells and loud knocks .

Then there's some who dare to stay a bit longer
To reaffrim that she's sad , so very sad
And she didn't mean to do it ...