The only way I'll
Sketch your profile
Is in a shadow box
Because I can't see what
You like look, but
I trust my rocks.
Pasty, old, white.
Even though I might,
I know not to forsake
A face like aspirin,
Never saccharine,
But you can cure my headache.
You can read my numbers
If you deal me out
A fresh deck.
Spell out my accident
If you stare me down
And rubberneck.
When you stay here,
I'm an engineer
But I wanted to play guitar
But then I signed up
You made your mind up
And I bought us a brand new car.
Be my Marge Simpson
While I unfasten
Your new black bra.
The back of my couch.
You're a red carpet
And you'll be my downfall.