I'm a stranger here myself

Tell me, is love still a popular suggestion

Or merely an obsolete art?

Forgive me for asking this simple question

I’m unfamiliar with his heart

I’m a stranger here myself

Why is it wrong to murmur “I adore him”

When it’s shamefully obvious I do?

Does love embarrass him or does it bore him?

I’m only waiting for my cue

I’m a stranger here myself

I dream of a day, of a gay warm day

With my face between his hands

Have I missed the path? Have I gone astray?

I ask, and no one understands

Love me or leave me, that seems to be the question

I don’t know the tactics to use

But if he should offer a personal suggestion

How could I possibly refuse

When I’m a stranger here myself?

Please tell me, tell a stranger

By curiosity goaded

Is there really any danger

That love is now outmoded?

I’m interested especially

In knowing why you waste it

True romance is so fleshly

With what have you replaced it?

What is your latest foible?

Is gin rummy more exquisite?

Is skiing more enjoyable?

For Heaven’s sakes, what is it?

I can’t believe that love has lost its glamour

That passion is really passé

If gender is just a term in grammar

How can I ever find my way

When I’m a stranger here myself?

How can he ignore my available condition?

Why these Victorian views?

You see here before you a woman with a mission

I must discover the key to his ignition

And then if he should make a diplomatic proposition

How could I possibly refuse?

How could I possibly refuse?

When I’m a stranger here myself?