Scandanavian Loving


No,not blonde,blue eyed or drop dead gorgeous,
Just hazel eyed,with a cute boyish haircut that accentuates the face
The face of the desperate lover,longing for embrace-well meaning embrace,not
the lustful sweaty, grappling gyrations that define a Sunday morning...
"I really like you", means nothing to me, "I really love you" strikes fear in my heart.
Don't you realize,young fool,that the latter is used only "in case of emergency"
With men of my type,you should be careful-I'd fuck you on Sunday,dump you by Wednesday,
Thursday would bring me a glimpse of your face,as I smell your essence while doing my laundry,
Yes,yes, washing away the musk,is washing away the memories.Hopefully all thats left is the image of that dyed blonde lock,that seems ironic,when compared to your stereotype, of blonde and blue eyed
Friday,I'd be drunk,and Saturday you'd just be a figment..the blonde lock,thingy...wha..??

So cry no tears,for I love you not-its harpies like you,
Who bring out the bastard in me,
I'm not your friend-just an aquaintance,you were foolish enough to screw,
On a breezy Sunday night
But what would you do without me,you wail...
I'd meditate on my Sunday mornings and screw my right hand.