| Her eyes tell the story so well |
| She tries hard to hide |
| So little expected too often neglected |
| A woman stripped of her pride |
| Always so careful not to cry |
| Until I fall asleep |
| And there in the silence |
| She lies with a tear on her cheek |
| The thought comes to mind that I’ve relived somehow |
| For herein I can’t quite recall |
| That a man without love’s only half a man |
| But a woman is nothing at all |
| She knows I don’t love her |
| Although heaven knows how I try |
| Her reason for living is to go right on giving |
| One thing that she’s gon' be mine |
| Without any warning in the wee hours |
| Of the morning, she cries |
| Her deep inside she cries so to hide |
| Is beginning to show in her eyes |
| And a thought comes to mind that I’ve relived sometime |
| For herein I can’t quite recall |
| That a man without love’s only half a man |
| But a woman is nothing at all |
| Yeah, a man without love’s only half a man |
| But a woman is nothing at all |