But I’m not whingin’
Got my pencil and a paper and poses winding
My hates are all buried under the floor
where you can’t reach them no more
So you see I only got love
to give and to receive
so anything else in your imagination
you see what you want to tell you stories
I’d like to carry on with your story now
cause this poem’s getting long and winding
Tell me what you see and I’ll tell you what’s real and whats posin’
so don’t come around here promising
Cause I heard them before first hand
from the boys in my band.
And you posin’ isn’t roses but mainly of thorns
inside so don’t get all pretty unless your sittin’ on my dicky
when you turn into a porn star and get down so low.
To be honest I’m not interested anymore.
Your messin’ with a Psycho
so forget don’t ever let go till your lying on the floor
and I give you permission to move, ho.