by Dean Friedman

She grew up across the hall, with a bear lying on her bed
and Elton John up on the wall.
She followed him everywhere from Nursery school to Harvard Square.
They were born a year apart. They knew each other's souls by heart.

No one knows. No one knows.
We try hard to be discreet. Some things are trouble to disclose.
It keeps us on our toes. And no one knows.

She was popular in school. She was friends with all the boys
but there was only one voice that could wash away her blues.
She read him her poetry and pages from her diary.
He would long for her to stay. But she would blush and turn away.

No one knows. No one knows.
We try hard to be discreet. Some things are trouble to disclose.
It keeps us on our toes. And no one knows.

He came home one afternoon. She was lying on his bed watching TV in his room.
She saw him standing there. She had no fear. She didn't care.
They spoke each other's name. The room burst out in flame.

No one knows. No one knows.
We try hard to be discreet. Some things are trouble to disclose.
It keeps us on our toes. And no one knows.