He's not just a man, he's a big collection of many things
And he sings his songs for you while he sings the blues to me
And his wife doesn't understand
So she tries her hand to break his heart in two
Anything she can do to lose him
He's a troubadour, he's a symptom of our times
Bigamy's last pin-up boy, caught in problematic rhymes
And his wife has always said it's better to be stuck inside your head
Than in someone else's bed
It leaves you cold
Well it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swinging style
He's a regular, in the Presidential Suite
Minibars and miniskirts, he always leaves them incomplete
There's a time and place for diamond bracelets
It's not here and it's not now
Anyway, anyhow
He leaves her cold
Well it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swinging style
There's a fairy tale in England but it's over
And she's asking why
There's no joking in this room so throw another drink and tell another lie
He's just half a man, half a man and half asleep
As his wife loses command of the company he keeps
There's a spirit of ecstasy that rollers never had, it's not okay
At least it's not cliché to lose your mind
Well it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swinging style
Well it don't mean a thing if you don't wear that ring in style