He is over the moon,
really over the moon,
He only ever dreams of his love
You would almost think, in fact I am sure
He can only be helped from above.
He cuddles and kisses, caresses, then hugs,
Even gives her a pat with glee,
We have never seen him excited this way,
It is really a concern to me.
He sits for hours, just watching her head,
It has got such a sparkling glow,
Then he will rave about her curves and shape,
And the body that makes it so.
What he sees in her, We really don’t know,
She looks so decrepit and worn,
Her body is wrinkled, there is junk on her boot,
Her cloth is all tattered and torn.
It becomes an embarrassment, all he speaks off
At home, or travelling afar,
It is driving us crazy, we have had quite enough,
Of him and his silly old car.
adam mccafferty © 1998
