His boots were scuffed and his skin was bronze,
And his eyes were Mexican brown,
He taught me to ride and he showed me the ropes,
And his hungry eyes trailed me around.
I think I'd have given him anything,
Oh, reckless and foolish lass!
But it came down to one sweet, measured kiss,
Proving he was the one with the class.
    'Cause I was too young and he knew it,
    Much too young and he knew it.

The golf pro showed me his sunburned smile,
And the picture-perfect swing,
He kissed me twice on the second green,
But it just didn’t have any zing.
He asked me to marry him day after day,
And he squired me all over town,
But being adored gets tiresome too,
And it ended with grief all around.
    He took back the gifts he gave me,
    The matched set of irons he gave me.

And there was the journalist, tall and intense,
His dad was a very rich man,
I fell in love with the silvery Porsche,
And the yacht and the catamaran.
I traded my aging virginity,
For sunsets in Malibu,
But money, not love, makes the world go 'round,
And I got neither one of the two.
    I came out with none of the two.
    Still batting zero for two.

I think of the Airman with steely blue eyes,
And ribbons and wings on his chest,
He scared me a little and thrilled me a lot,
And I fought hard against saying yes.
And while I was banking the smoldering embers,
And reining in my desire,
The Air Force transferred him out of my life,
And abruptly put out the fire.
    And nobody ever got burned.
    Not even a little bit burned.

He was serving up drinks in an Anchorage bar,
And me, I was just passing through,
But this local dandy had singled me out,
So what's a poor girl to do?
One scandalous night in the bartender's arms,
Was the most fun I'd ever had,
What followed were many more late, late nights,
And three children who called him dad.
    But the fire burned out one day,
    And the ashes blew softly away.

We met at a block party. Friend of a friend.
He played in a Dixieland band.
We went out to concerts, spun some old records,
Went everywhere hand-in-hand.
He was funny and sweet, and drove a Mercedes!
He showed me the time of my life.
He then disappeared. Vanished. Gone.
And I learned he went back to his wife.
    Back to his used-to-be life.
    Could he maybe have mentioned the wife?

The surfer kid was "a budding young artist,"
So said his friends in the bar.
We went out together a number of times,
Saying friends is all that we are.
He was exactly half my age,
And I guess you could blame the wine,
But we wound up one night in my foldaway bed,
And we both had a very nice time.
    It wasn't the last nice time,
    And it isn't the end of my rhyme.

Show me the well-behaved, buttoned-down heart,
That’s never gone shamelessly wrong,
Never been lured from the prudent path,
By a smoky old Neil Diamond song.
And maybe the good hearts DO finish last,
I know if I had my say,
I’d die second lining down Rampart Street,
Instead of the pre-approved way.