My body steeps in this hot sarcophagus,
Coated in fake butter topping.
I watch trollops quaffing hoppy-scotch,
Flipping wristwatches for moves to jump rope two-and-two.
Like when I was 10, and I saw this ***** white trash can of a man,
Fly out of a grocery store with a 40oz like he was Peter Pan.
But I knew deep down, in my swashbuckling soul of souls,
That Peter Pan got Wendy by being a gentleman.
So this fever, that has my mobile phone not shaking in my pocket,
I keep staring at every five seconds for you to call.
Is just another moment in my life to cherish, because if we should be married, And I want to talk. I'll just need to walk down the hall.