Will someone please call a surgeon
To crack my ribs and repair
This broken heart that you're deserting
For better company
Can't accept that it's over
And I'll block the door
Like a goalie tending the net in the third quarter
Of a tied-game rivalry

Just say how to make it right
I swear I'll do my best to comply

Tell me, am I right to think
That there could be nothing better
Than making you my bride
And slowly growing old together

I feel you'll interject here
I'm getting carried away feeling sorry for myself
With these revisions and gaps in history
So you help me remember
And made charts and graphs that should make it clear
Prepared a lecture on why I have to leave
So I should back away and let you go
I can't, my darling, I love you so
Tell me am I right to think
There could be nothing better
Than making you my bride
And slowly growing old together
Tell me am I right to think
There could be nothing better
Than making you my bride
And slowly growing old together