My ex girlfriend's tastes were to high for my own
so she gave me the old 'goodbye'
And for years she went out a string of other men
trading up for the next best guy.
Her biological clock was something she ignored
as she looked for her prized white knight.
But it stopped, short, never to go again
before she found Mister Right.

Forty years without slumbering, tick-tock-tick-tock.
Her eggs kept on numbering, tick-tock-tick-tock.
(But) It stopped, short, never to go again.
before she found Mister Right.

In watching the competition dance to and fro
many hours she had spent on the prowl.
And in nightclubs and cafes the clock seemed to know
it wasn't permanently endowed.
For at age thirty-four when I was booted out the door,
she said I really wasn't her type.
But it stopped, short, never to go again
before she found Mister Right.

Forty years without slumbering, tick-tock-tick-tock
Her eggs kept on numbering, tick-tock-tick-tock
(But) It stopped, short, never to go again
before she found Mister Right.

My ex-girlfriend now says of those she meets
not a suitable man comes her way.
They are either too fat or too old or too short
Or too poor or were taken or gay.
No options are left except a course of IVF
if she ever meets a guy half-alright.
Because it stopped, short, never to go again
before she found Mister Right.