I look across the courtyard to see The way She looks at me, She with the blonde hair That plays gently in the moving air, She that wants what she once had Before things turned sour and bad. She looks across the courtyard to see The guilty look coming from me, The look of apologies unsaid And guilt from taking her to bed, The look that cannot replace the word, The "Sorry" that may never be heard. I look across the courtyard to see The way He ignores the very existance of me, He that is wanted in more ways than any can show But is wanted in a way that He must never know, He that wants to be only with Her And yet does not know the way things were. He looks across the courtyard to see The way she still looks at me, He that can have all He wants, All but She that my past love haunts, He that I want to be with me. Or is it He that I want to replace, in Her, my memory? And thus is formed the Triangle of the Courtyard Square, Three lovers, lovers jilted by their own love, love unfair.