Text: Loeb Lisa. Guessing Game.

I could be trembling when I talk to you.
I could be making up all sorts of things that are not true.
I could tell a half truth, but I can not tell a lie.
I could tell a story that is ten feet high.
My stomach flutters, and I feel sometimes ashamed;
I'm a castle with broken shutters and
this is not a guessing game.
I could make a plea so that you and I could be we, and
I could say, "Oh, it's a must that you and I should be us."
All the answers I could guess, and you would be so impressed,
but I would never get a "yes", cause I have not the guts to guess.

My stomach flutters, and I feel sometimes ashamed;
I'm a castle with broken shutters and
this is not a guessing game.
I could be listening, but this is not a guessing game.
I'd guess all the answers, but this is not the same.
I could be trembling, I could be afraid,
I could be wallowing, wallowing when you think I've got it made.