What a man wants is quite opposite from what the air wants you to be
And I can assure you, eating from silver plates is fantastic in reality.
I make arrangements and I break them and I get things where I take them
And my many men are after all the money in my manor and I’m
Sitting by the fire laying golden eggs and cotton and my
Father’s making millions in a castle in brazotton
I say, wasn’t it sold off to that sailor from Southampton?
(If I get him we can clean him up and groom him in a mansion!)
Oh he’s picture perfect when he gets behind a glass display
And then maybe we’ll destroy his fame and say that he’s gone rotton
A scandal makes for worry and I’m never in a hurry
So I’ll dance and ride the trolley and meet men who call me dolly
There are lots of shabby shoppers but im surely something chicer
If you penny pinch you’ll know that stashing stock just makes you weaker
I am free, I am rich, and I wear a pretty stitch,
And I’ll sing a song for all your friends who wound up in a ditch,
We make friends, we drive cars, we stay late in all the bars,
If you think that I’m not happy, baby, I’m among the stars. (hey!)

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

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