Now in my younger days i used to sport as sag
when i went to school i carried lunch in a bag,
with an apple for my teacher 'cause i knew i'd get a kiss.
always got mad when the class was dismissed,
but when it was in session, i always had a question.
i would raise my hand to make her stagger to my desk and
help me with my problem, it was never much,
just a trick, to smell her scent and try to sneak a touch
oh, how i wish i could hold her hand and give her a hug.
she was married to the man. he was a thug, his name was lee, he drove a z,
he'd pick her up from school promptly at three o'clock.
i was on her jock, yes indeedy. i wrote graffiti on the bus.
first i'd write her name then carve a plus,
with my name last, on the looking glass,
i seen her yesterday but still i had to let her pass.
She keeps on passing me by....
When i dream of fairytales i think of me and shelly.
see, she's my type of hype and i can't stand when brothers tell me,
that i should quit chasin' and look for something better,
but the smile that she shows makes me a go-getter.
i haven't gone as far as asking if i could get with her,
i just play it by ear and hope she gets the picture.
i'm shootin' for her heart, got my finger on the trigger.
she could be my broad, and i could be her nigger,
but all i can do is stare.
back as kids we used to kiss when we played truth or dare.
now she's more sophisticated, highly edu-ma-cated, not at all over-rated.
i think i need a prayer,
to get in her book and it looks rather dry,
i guess a twinkle in her eye is just a twinkle in her eye.
although she's crazy steppin' i'll try to stop her stride,
'cause i won't have no more of this passing me by.
And i must voice my opinion of not even pretending she didn't have me.
strung like a chicken, chase my tail like a doggie,
she was kind of like a star, thinking i was like a fan.
dude, she looked good, down side: she had a man.
he was a rudey, too, a nincompoop.
she told me soon your little birdie's gonna fly the coop.
she was a flake like corn, and i was born not to understand,
by letting her pass i had proved to be a better man.
She keeps on passing me by....
Now there she goes again, the dopest ethiopian,
and now the world around me be gets movin' in slow motion when-
ever she happens to walk by. why does the apple of my eye
overlook and disregard my feelings no matter how much i try?
wait, no, i did not really pursue my little princess with persistance;
and i was so low-key that she was unaware of my existance
from a distance i desired, secretly admired her;
wired her a letter to get her, and it went:
my dear, my dear, my dear, you do not know me but i know you very well.
now let me tell you about the feelings i have for you.
when i try, or make some sort of attempt, i symp.
damn i wish i wasn't such a wimp!
'cause then i would let you know that i love you so,
and if i was your man then i would be true.
the only lying i would do is in the bed with you.
give a try and consider the one who loves you dearly,
p.s. love me tender.'
the letter came back three days later: return to sender.
damn!
She keeps on passing me by...