The fellow next door
You nicknamed "the mute one"
Is not anymore,
He's now called "the cute one"---
Well, next week he may become cuter.
I'd better quit while I'm ahead.

You used to make me gourmet meals,
Soufflés and rack of lamb, dear;
But you went from those
To take-out food
And soon it may well be Spam, dear.
I still look okay
And fairly well-fed---
That's why I'd better quit while I'm ahead.
 

My small talk, you know,
You used to find pleasing;
You'd sit and you'd glow,
But now you start wheezing---
Well, next week you may contract asthma.
I'd better quit while I'm ahead.

The silence that kills
Those threat'ning barrages
Has led me to pills
And Swedish massages---
Well, next week I may require plasma.
I'd better quit while I'm ahead.

Remember how we used to love
With wild unorthodoxy?
Well, we went from there
To love by rote
And soon it may be by proxy.
We're starting to act
As though we were wed---
That's why I'd better quit while I'm ahead.