YOUNGER THAN SPRINGTIME
I touch your chest and my glands grow strong,
Like a pair of birds that burst with song,
My eyes look down at your supple waist,
And I hold the world in my embrace
Younger than Chelsea are you,
Younger than Monica, too,
What's wrong with that?
It's done all the time in third world countries,
Why do I take such hard knocks?
You'd think I'd screwed my cat Socks,
My sex life's private, why does that Starr dude pick on me?
And when my wife suspects that I'm untrue,
I say, "right wing conspiracy," then,
She goes attack mode, with pluck,
While she's attacking, we'll fuck,
Bet you in heaven Kennedy tips his hat to me
copyright 1998 wayne aaronson |
