My Damn Valentine
It’s nearly here, the day I despise
The day of fake love and creative lies.
“I love you my darling, I love you I do!”
“Ah crap,’ I say, “Twaddle and poo!”
The special day I should get a great gift,
But what can you expect from a guy addicted to thrift?
A slab of stale chocolate, a cheap red rose?
If he brings me that I’ll punch him on the nose!
I’ll make his knees turn to jelly,
As I box him again and again in his flabby belly.
He thinks he’s so wonderful, so darn cool,
The cheap bastard, playing me for a fool,
Buying my love with something so cheap.
And that’s supposed to make me think his love is deep? The creep.
He’s just a nasty piece of work,
A pathetic predictable idiotic jerk.
I could have become the ultimate masturbator
If he put his hand in his wallet and bought me a vibrator!
Instead the stupid dick,
The pathetic penny-pinching prick,
Will probably present me with a single red flower.
I’ll flush it away when I take my power shower,
Aiming those powerful jets at the region most tender,
While I shudder and gyrate like fruit in the blender.
For a man so cheap I have no need.
Be warned, he’ll be stamped on like a toxic weed.
