Scandals

I really do love a scandal.
Don't feed me honey — feed me a row.
"Where on earth did my opals go?!"
Ah, there they are. Right. Merci.

My sweetheart is playing PlayStation.
A true intellectual, you see.
So why does it pull me so badly
To drink absinthe out of ennui.

We're sailing by yacht to a party.
Parties, booze, and miracles galore.
My girlfriend will cry out of fury.
Or out of Botox.

My girlfriend's a snake, a real viper.
She keeps circling around my guy.
Like the Mariana Trench —
She'll pull you under, and nothing's ever found!

Her gaze is all smouldering passion,
Coquetry and all that crap.
Jealousy can be dangerous,
And you want to kill somebody.

I sit quietly in my apartment.
Writing a crime novel.
About a made-up heroine.
Whose whole life is a lie.

My girlfriend is no viper.
I don't have any opals.
And how good that it isn't me.
Just a plot I made up.

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