She is a lady
A voice like an angel.
A face like a model.
A body not like anyone of these vesta-models, thank god.
A perfect mother of two...special children.
All in all the perfect woman.
And I fell in love with her.
A balding man.
A timider, neurotic man.
A man, who lives by his mother.
These facts say it all.
I am a loser, I will never deserve her.
But I stand here, watching her singing, adore her.
If I would have the voice of Frank Sinatra, then , perhaps..., stop it, you idiot,
do not imagine thinks, which will never happen.
You are the janitor, nothing more.
But, hold on, you are more then it.
You invent cool stuff and that impresses her, or?
Okay, most of my inventions get broken in minutes,
but some are real helpful.
Mother was very happy about the automatic owl-cleaner
I present her to her last birthday.
Awww, that sounds really weird and freaky.
What should I do, I am not a man, who is athletic or rich.
I am just Arwin Hawkhauser, the janitor of the Tipton.
And she is a songstress with a golden voice.
Ok, ok, I got now the differences between us.
But there are similarities, I know.
Once I wrote her poems and she loved them.
Okay, she thought, that an other man wrote them,
but she liked them and in the end she found out, dumped him
and said to me, that we could never be...okay...,
anyway, she liked them.
Yes, I can impress her. Maybe I am not rich, or athletic, or...,
okay, got it, got it.
But I am a smart guy, a brainy one.
Yes, a brainy one, that sounds good.
She sings now "She is a lady".
Right, your a lady, Carey Martin, my lady.
