As you sit there in your loneliness, confused as you must be, I'm sure a dozen questions
come to mind. And if you're wondering why I left you, after all you've done for me,
I guess you'll have to blame it on the times. The many times you had your way, no matter
what the cost, and the many times you took for granted the love you now have lost. And
if I've hurt you, darling, I don't mean to be unkind, I guess you'll have to blame it
on the times. That small conceited world of yours could never understand that to want
to stand alone is not a crime. And if for one time in my life I'm acting like a man,
I guess you'll have to blame it on the times. Blame it on the many times a hiding place
I'd seek, afraid to see what's on my mind, and ashamed for being weak. So if at last
I'm seen, after so long of being blind, I suppose you'll have to blame it on the times.