Mornings, I like you.
Afternoons surviving.
But when the nighttime comes. Lord. I need my man.
I'm not the kind of woman, who could ever be a loner. No, no, no. It's not my style.
I need my man beside me. Warm hands hold me nightly.
Go on and say I'm dependently crazed.
Darling, I guess, it's just the way I was raised.