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Give it to Me Your migraine headaches. Your chauvinistic charms. The way you chew with your mouth open, Gnaw on toothpicks like sludge. Crack your knuckles. Sing off key. Laugh at the stupidest jokes And that mindless expression on your face When you swear you have rhythm. Your wax jobs, insistent blow jobs. Your callous hands, like grapefruit rinds. Unkind words to waitresses and all Those that were born to serve you. Keys locked in your foreign car. Cell phone, laptop, flip box Marlboro's. Cuban cigars and all-American ignorance. Your twenty questions, your second guessing. Your appointment book, entourage. Your critical disparage over my weight and My Wicked, Wicked Ways. Your operas and oatmeal. Misogyny and madness. Ego and exclaim. That putrid smell on your breath when you cum too soon. And your wedding band, Caught on the sleeve of my sweater, Which you say is old and worn. The only thing that you can truly do For me, Is to go home And give it to her.
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