Thinking Of ….


I got the next squeeze on my mind, the perfect hypocrite,
just like Marie Antoinette, want my cake ‘n’ eat-it.
I’ll hold your hand, whisper sweet words, only have eyes for you.
But all the while, behind your back, workin’ on number two./be’n’ untrue.

You’re pretty, cool an’ junk ‘n’ stuff,
that’s not up for debate!
But I can’t stop myself thinking …

… thinking ’bout your best mate … what a babe!

I’ll-worship you like a deity, place you on a throne,
despite my fawnin’ sycophance*, you’re just a steppin’ stone.
I’ll hold you tight, pledge my love, when we start to grind/our limbs entwine.
It’s a good job, when I climax, that you can’t read my mind.

You’re pretty, cool an’ junk ‘n’ stuff,
‘n’ I guess a good/bon French kisser.
But I can’t stop myself thinking …

… thinking ’bout your sister! … bet she blows like a twister!

I can’t excuse the way I am, it’s burned into my nature.
My body may be old and worn, in-my-mind still a teenager.
Maybe that’s why, behind my back, people say I’m a fool.
Stop ‘n’ stare watchin’ me pourin’ on high-octane fuel.

You’re pretty, cool an’ junk ‘n’ stuff,
if you left me guess I’d miss ya.
But I can’t stop myself thinking …

… thinkin’ ’bout the babysitter!
… I can’t resist her!
… What a figure!

©6.6.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman

*sycophance (my word, sycophancy doesn’t fit rhyme/metre)

if you left I’d sorta miss ya.
I’ll worship you like a x x princess, place you on a throne,
edge/hedge.
,green monsters, fuelin’ their ridicule.


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