“It’s your job to love me,” the pretty wife said,
“And you’re not doing it right.
You’re supposed to thrill me,
to caress and fulfill me,
and dance with me all through the night, through the night,
to make love to me all day and night.”
“I’m sorry, my dear,” said the young man, surprised,
“To fail you was not my intent.
I buy you chocolates and flowers,
and spend all of my hours
making money to keep you content, pay our rent,
making money to pay for our rent.”
“I don’t care about money,” she replied with a pout, “I quit my job,” said he with pride the next day, “I’ll need a divorce,” she said before winter had passed,
“Or the nice house or jewelry of mine;
the life you provide
is all on the side
of what’s really important – your time, it’s your time,
your attention, affection and time.”
“And I did it for you, my dove;
I’ve sold the house and the cars
So we can live by the stars
We’ll eat and drink just for our love, just our love,
we’ll live for each other and love.”
“A poor life just for love has no shine.
Romance without bling?
I’ve found a new king
who shows love with his sweet bottom line, and it’s mine,
he shows love with his hard bottom line.”
“I quit my job,” said he with pride the next day,
“I’ll need a divorce,” she said before winter had passed,