I... I was born yesterday   And I believe all that you say   I have no choice   I must obey you   Is this the first or the second day   Of the rest of my life   Well hey    Why should I care either way   If what you say is true?      Saturday morning, 18th of December   I cannot remember   The last time that I saw such a young ballerina   In love with the loveless   In tune with a tuneless old upright piano   Standing en pointe   Going through each position with gentle precision   She measures each movement   Her classical features and elegant waistline   Are going to waste while she pleases her parents      What if they die on the road to Rathmines   Where a dog in two minds times his run to perfection   An orphan at last,   She'd be sick in the loo-bowl   Then go to the funeral and cry by the graveside   And then sleep with the first man she sees   And she'd catch some disease   Which she would give to her doctor   She'd cook her own breakfast, and she'd cook his as well   And both get on swell   Even though he was married      You are a part of me   I am a part of you   Why should I let you walk all over me?   All over me