I set myself the task of writing a song that evoked that most tasteful* of popular music decades, the Eighties. Here’s the result. I’d be interested to see which influences you spot.
Why Don’t You Need Me?
Your e-mail made no sense at all
And now you won’t return my calls;
A less secure man would be crying
It seems that you ain’t even trying
To look at it from my perspective,
What am I, a love detective?
The point I’m making’s elementary:
Ditchin’ me’s the crime of the century.
This hard-to-get thing’s getting stupid,
I ain’t no good at playing Cupid,
Your silent treatment’s worse than torture,
Just think of all the flowers I bought ya!
Don’t listen to your best friend Geri,
I didn’t steal them from the Cemetary
I’m Mister Romance, like Morten Harket,
I got them from the supermarket:
So come on babe, pick up the phone
Can’t stand these evenings on my own.
So come on babe, all those nights we dated!
It cannot be that complicated!
YOUR E-MAIL DON’T MAKE SENSE AT ALL
AND NOW YOU WON’T RETURN MY CALLS!
*or not, depending on your point of view