The Songwriter

What would it sound like if you were the songwriter
And you made your living off of me?
Would you detail your near-constant consternation
With the way my very presence makes your muses up and flee?
Goodbye, little songbird, I can leave
Goodbye, my love, is there anything else you need?
What would it sound like if you were the songwriter
And you did your living around me?
Would you undress me repeatedly in public
To show how very noble and naked you can be?
Goodbye, little songbird, now you’re free
Don’t forget I’m the only fan of yours
Who has the sense to ever leave you be
How could you do this to me?
What would it sound like if you were the songwriter
And loving me was your unsung masterpiece?