But Not For Me in Margaret Whiting

They're writing songs of love, but not for me
A lucky star's above, but not for me
With love to lead the way, I've found more clouds of gray
Than any Russian play could guarantee

I was a fool to fall and get this way
Heigh ho, alas, and also lack-a-day
Although I can't dismiss the memory of his kiss
I guess he's not for me