He walks this path alone,
Never knowing what next life will cast in his direction
Gifts of the flesh he has known,
But his gift to Love is forbidden by constant rejection
There's more to life than skin on skin,
There's more to me than smiling and being amusing
This is the story of a relationship virgin
It's somewhat sad, somewhat lonely and always confusing

Some call him a wishful thinker,
The kind to wish for real love, white picket fences and roses
Hoping and wishing for a fascinating partner
But he always loses out to a heavier wallet held by a poser
One day when the time is right
Is the cliche that he dreads to hear, dreads to realize
Loneliness keeps him cold at night
When love is confessed openly, there's no call to chastise

Could his love be wrongly bestowed?
On one who wishes him only disappointment and scorn
Love is free, it is never owed
It is inherent within all of us, from the very day we are born
But we live in this land
Where people are all to quick to give up their bodies for casual sex
But the joining of hands
In a commitment between man and woman has become so complex

So he walks this path of loneliness and abstraction
Tired of the world turning despite the absence of full attraction
Wronged by the judgements based on inner lists written by parents
Wishing to be given the chance, to show his ways of enchantment
In the Book of Love, right now he operates only in the margin
The trials and frustrations of a relationship virgin...