He's a gentle lover, blinded by you to all
others.
I hear he's so productive with his life.
Tried so hard to please him off the bat
and broke your knees.
But tell me, is he really your type?
He will never be satisfied unless you're
kneeling.
Froth at the mouth calling his name in spite the
loss of feeling.
I'm staring at your tits I feel so bad it's come
to this.
Save the day indulgence.
You think you must be his but I respected those
tits
and he's buying you enlargements.
The special cliques untwisting so who's up for
reminiscing?
Can we share with them the stories from
whence?
I was playing a phono record. I was a
picture-postcard
but have you been as happy since?
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