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The wild mystic pounding
Of the rain on the roof
Shelia's so aloof
And I'm folding in

Cars are moving sideways
Criminals are freed
To hide their filthy greed
They smile so broadly

Night focuses in
Like some over age laser beam
But things are never what they seem
They're so much less

Love is not a constant
It blows in like the wind
Loving is not a sin
But it's close.

I am NOT SO aloof!

Do you write that about Vicky and whats-her-name-on the bus?

Humph!

(And don't forget to spell it right next time: S-h-e-i-l-a)

It's not Sheila. It's Shelia. Shell-ee-u.