“Tender Is”

I sit at the piano
Almost all the time
I think about my life
And try to make it rhyme

It’s been such a long, long while
Since I’ve been to the front
I did so well the last time
It must have seemed a stunt

But my chops have gotten tender
I don’t know if I am able
To pick the banner up again
Do service and stay stable

’Cause I’d rather be no one at home
And leave my talent on the shelf
Than be the world to some poor girl
Who’s nobody at home herself

[break]

’Cause I’d rather be no one at home
And leave my talent on the shelf
Than be the world to some poor girl
Who’s nobody at home herself