Fifty Per Cent

I don't iron his shirts I don't sew on his buttons I don't know all the jokes he tells Or the songs he hums Though I may hold him all through the night He may not be here when the morning comes I don't pick out his ties Or expect his tomorrows But I feel when he's in my arms He's where he wants to be We have no memories Bittersweet with time And I doubt if he'll spend New Year's Eve with me I don't share his name I don't wear his ring There's no piece of paper saying that he's mine But he says he loves me, and I believe it's true Doesn't that make someone belong to you So I don't share his name So I don't wear his ring So there's no piece of paper saying that he's mine So we have don't have the memories I have enough memories I've watched enough mornings I've cried enough evenings I've had enough birthdays to know what I want Life is anyone's guess It's a constant surprise you don't plan to fall in love But when you fall you fall I'd rather have fifty percent of him Or any percent of him Than all of anybody else at all