AN: Just found an old box filled with memories in the attic... I thought this one fits Nellie/Sweeney pretty good.
About things she does not know
Her lips like cherries,
her face like rain
and roses that bloom in May.
It's me he calls 'his angel',
it's me he calls 'his own'.
But her he goes to sleep to,
Her he lives with along.
It's me he calls 'his beauty',
me he wants to have.
But when she calls he jumps.
And he does what she says.
Even a blind man can see
That he is happy with her
as long as he can't have me.
He talks to me day and night
'bout his whole life.
About things she does not know
and never will.
But in the end
he leaves me for her.
As every day.
And still I'm here.
I'm not going.
I'm not staying.
I'm always around.
Whatever you say,
whatever you see.
If she someday leaves,
he's still got me.