Haunt

She was a pretty one
And the next one will be too
And the next one won't quite break your heart
But the next one will be cruel

And every single girl to come
Will ask to be set free
But not a one will ever know
At night you think of me

And when you're out of things to say
Your poems have all been writ
You'll cry out for the only one
Who knows all your secrets

Each one like sand will slip away
One by one they'll take a bow
Rest assured, the next hundred girls
Won't love like I do now