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