How can I explain how I feel. I'm like a little kid running at her heel. She's giving me looks like she thinks I'm a snappy dresser. How can I tell what I should plan. I've never kissed a girl or held her hand. She's waiting for me to move I've got to impress her. I play guitar in a mainstream band. I've got three red jackets and a Fender jazz. I've got Charlie Parker's autograph. The girl I moved with's turned up on grass. She moved her seat next to mine. But I'm just playing for time. I ain't got the guts to let her see the real me. My confidence eroded away. Over hearing what children say. So I'm trying to make myself seem more appealing. I know your man is in to playing jazz bass. I tried that myself but I need more space. Like to soar and fly like the big Birdman. When I met him last week he shook my hand. Every lie I tell weaves another spell another road that ends up blind. The Bird that shook my hand was a wanted man I think you knew that all the time. I came so close to having you for me. But I lost you in the fantasy. I pretended to myself that you were mine already. You waited but deep in your eyes. You were watching me so wordly wise. Then you changed the subject and talked about going steady. I've got 200 records and a big hi-fi. I sit and listen to Ella and Basey all night. I played modern jazz of every variety. You could come and listen but we close tonight