They say to me that it' not me you love,
But things that I am in possession of,
My bank accounts, bonds, and all my cash,
My diamonds and, then, my secret stash.
So be it, I shall say, for it's not you I love,
But things that you are, too, possessant of:
Your silky thighs, your springy nipples, and
The way they make my hair stand on end.
So what if it's not people that we love,
And that important things aside we shove,
Enjoy my money, babe, while I'm alive
As your affection you for me contrive.
I shall contrive my love for you as well,
As I enjoy your sweet female smell,
Your silky passages, your taut and swelling breast,
A deal like that with you just makes me bless'd.
For paper, metals, power and such things,
I got a feast of meat that's fit for kings,
So what if it's not me you love, they say,
I got my money's worth, and that's Okay.
