I cannot cook. I do not clean.
I can talk politics and
I don't read women's magazines.
I know exactly what I want,
and I go for it, too;
I never think, I only do.
I know how to make you tick,
run my hand down your thigh;
I can blink thick with big green eyes,
lead you in and make you mine, but:
I'm not the girl you want to date,
I'm the one you wanna ****.

To think again as a child would be bliss.
The grey spring skies mean nothing but that
I have to play inside.

I may whine, but with the distraction
of character macaroni and my favorite show,
I'll survive.

I'll see with my big green eyes
puddles to jump in and
spring coming alive.

A wonderful life with no stress,
nothing but my head to rest
on my father's shoulder as I go to bed.

He puts one ******* display like the Mona Lisa
their bed is the Louvre

For me I say, a new one every night,
every state quarter, I want them all as mine

The collection of men as my single bed
gives free admission to those who choose
to fill the holes of my coin book

My mission: collect all fifty states.

He'll want to be the last but I fear
she has the Wisconsin in her grasp

Would it have been different if I'd changed myself for those around me?
Would I have been popular, well-liked, would I have managed
to replace my old friends with new?

Would I have wanted to?

I fill the void
with carnal desire,
in its animal form

I want nothing but
hot flesh, pulsing places,  
*** for pleasure's sake

No emotions, piercing stares,
the heat of the **** is what I want,
until something better comes along

A flash of quick wit
"I still love you" in a five-second clip
better be careful, I say.
I might believe you and
slide back on what I've gained.

and just like the Snapchat picture
you'll disappear again

I wonder if I'll ever feel again
a romantic touch, or if I'm stuck
with the heat of the ****
forever