The Life of a Libertine
She’s moaning: (”She’s primed and ready. I’ll turn off the light.”)
She’s groaning: (“Off with her clothing and I’m in tonight!”)
She’s shrieking: (“Keep down the noise or the neighbors will hear!”)
Bed’s creaking: (“I hope those termites weren’t nibbling here.”)
Just some of the sounds,
When the girls come around,
Simply put, I do it the best.
Deep breathing: (“It’s not the size, but the motion, you know.”)
I’m seething: (“This one! She always gets off so slow!”)
We’re thrashing: (“Yes! This is it! We’re both going to do it!”)
Bed’s crashing: (“God damn those termites! They beat me to it!”)
Just some of the sounds,
When the wives sneak around,
Simply put, I do it with zest.
She’s scheming: (“Tell me you love me. I’ll leave him for you.”)
You’re dreaming: (“I told you before to forget it! We’re through!”)
She’s crying: (“Oh God! You’re a bastard! How was I so wrong?!”)
I’m sighing: (“Babe, it’s been great. Now I guess it’s so long.”)
Just some of the sounds,
When I play around.
Who cares? I’ll pick from the rest.
She’s screaming: (“It’s over! We’re finished! Don’t shout!”)
I’m steaming: (“But how in hell did he ever find out?”)
Disconnected: (“Hide! Oh my God! He’s loading his gun!”)
I’m detected: (“I think there’s some packing I’d better get done.”)
There won’t be a sound,
When he does come around,
because I’ll be gone way out west.
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