Friday, January 8, 2010

Boys Are Toys

I have an expensive toy called boy-
More expensive than diamonds and pearls;
Spends his stash like a young and rich playboy-
In bars with sexy showgirls;

Every night he drinks his expensive wine-
Chardonnay 'Blanc with escargot;
Would only go places so fine and divine-
To satisfy the demand of his ego;

Dresses up with Vitton, Dior Homme and Gaultier-
Would only be seen with the Elite;
Rides his father's car for a free chauffer-
With girls in the backseat;

Studied in Cambridge for the sake of a degree-
To show daddy he too can make a dime;
But it is all just done so people can see-
That he is living a life so sublime;

Speaks a language only heard in Shakespeare's time-
Like: "O, how ripe in show thy lips,";
Sweeps girls off their feet from a stupid rhyme-
If they knew it's just memorized scripts;

But no matter how much I critisize my boy-
I still won't know what to do;
For he is my everything: my love and my joy-
Without him I won't have a clue;

No money is this world could ever compare-
To the happiness I found when together;
Although he don't see how much I care-
I'll cherish my love for him forever;

You will never see the way I see you-
For you are just a boy;
Like every other girl who has seen you through-
You are another toy--

Boys are toys.

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