(Martha Sharp)
See the happy fool walking with the girl
That once belonged to me
I guess he hasn't heard her heart is like a bird
And very soon she'll fly all free
There in his face I see a trace of the old me
And how that fool I used be.
My friends made sure I knew that she had been untrue
And what a fool she'd made of me
I should thank them all I know they were kind enough to show
All her false I couldn't see
I let her go but still I hold the memory
Of a fool I used be...