You dragged me down on the sofa, thrust your lips against mine,
Promised me the best evening of my life,
Brimming with spilt rose petals and flutes of bubbling champagne,
Chocolate ice cream shared with long silver spoons, and coffee drank under the stars,
You said that you would go down to the loch with a net tonight,
Find the best stars to be cut and polished and thrust into pots of glue and glitter,
Much better than any raw diamond.

You walked through blaring traffic and pouring rain, clambered over my front gate,
Waited like Romeo at my door, only to be discovered by my infuriated mother,
Enshrouded by demonic curlers and a hairy pink gown,
All because I don't have a balcony, but you can come and woo me down,
With a glistening red rose and the heavy bounty of your love,
You tried so hard for me, you pulled out all the stops,
A world weary gunslinger using his last bullet but aiming too far out,
And your words had a certain ring to them, to make my fingers tingle, my throat dry,
But I needed a glass of water when you were done.

You thrust at me lingering looks, wandering eyes, subtle hands,
I took them and placed them back in their scabbard and sheath,
Although I had my own weapons,
A low shirt and a short skirt, and no shield whatsoever, To lure you to your doom.
Ketchup lipstick smeared in the ladies,
Armpits shaved at three on Monday morning,
(forgot to shave on Sunday night)
But it worked just fine,
(yeah just fine)
on you,
Because you weren't in control of your hormones,
And in the end you only hurt yourself
Although I guess I was the mother pushing you on the swing,
Further, further, tumbling into a sky full of rainclouds,
And in the end you only hurt yourself
With your quixotic fantasies
Of what you would do when you had me all alone.

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