There's a lady in the city

And she thinks she loves them all
Theres the one who’s thinking of her
Theres the one who sometimes calls
Theres the one who writes her letters
With his facts and figures scrawl

She has brought them to her senses
They have laughed inside her laughter
Now she rallies her defenses
For she fears that one will ask her
For eternity
While shes much too busy being free.