The Woman Who Isn't A Song

Angie, you smile at all things in your front, Envy escapes from what you do possess; Because You Can't Always Get What You Want, Your heart just shows humble indebtedness. I grasp that you are not Under My Thumb, For you freely form your own decision; You just Paint It Black or white in outcome, Because life brings both mirth and depression. You view that I am not a Tumbling Dice To be thrown, to land wherever they may; Even Wild Horses can never devise A force that can madly drag me away. You are not as those Honky-Tonk Women With wild and uninhibited lifestyle; Nor a Ruby Tuesday to be ruined, Instead, as Rolling Stones, you are worthwhile.