To the girl I knew in Sixth Form long ago
It took me sixteen years or more to know
That she probably wouldn’t thank me for the songs that I wrote for her
Well I wrote this one for me and looking back I think they all were
Because I grew
Up in a world
Where the tragic hero always gets the girl
I set the scene
I wrote the script
Handed her a leading part and she never wanted it because
No woman ever wants to be a muse
To be dragged over hot coals
To be slandered, to be used
So you can sing the world your inauthentic blues
And be the bravest, be the smartest
The most deeply tortured artist
Tell me who in their right mind would ever choose
To be a muse
Oh I wish for all the world I’d learned back then
To not repeat the deeds of famous men
Who took just one perspective, that gave them a good villain
Absolved them of their sins and in the process made a killing
So best be warned
Not to believe
The bleeding heart I wear upon my sleeve
For all the pain
It might imply
There’s another one out there somewhere with no right of reply
And maybe Stevie Nicks really drove him out his mind but maybe Lindsay should have gone his own way too
And we’ll never know the girl who wasted Dylan’s precious time
Or if he left her tangled up in blue
I guess they both had versions
But we all know just the one
All that I really know for certain
Is it made a damn good song cos
History’s written by the victors
Yeah and art is made to last
And I dread the day I’ll have to answer
For the songs of break-ups past
Yeah no woman ever wants to stand accused
Of the crimes that you wrote for her
While professing to adore her
While disparaging her honour
With all you projected on her
While you revelled in the glory
Of telling one side of the story
Yeah no woman in this world would ever choose
To be a muse
Now I've looked at it both ways
Don't believe a word I say
And beware of anyone who ever views
You as a muse
Because no woman in this world would ever choose
To be a muse
