Your Love Is Law

There is a little bit of lore, Downtown, of how you’re love is law, Pardon me my lady, I don’t mean to be such a bore, But I must admit your love is a painful sore. If I could I would send a fleet of hounds, To charge at you in mounds like bullet rounds, Till you learn to love me and not the pounds, Because when all is said and done, There is only one law, That in my heart your love is law. I’m not sure whether thy secret of thy bosoms only heaven knows, The way you love the pounds cuts me deeper than saws, Burns like plasma hurts like a gore, Yet in my heart your love is law? To you I am not far from a painful wart, And how you take me is enough to break my heart, If I could just for you my heart I’d burrow, Even if it is with a mean looking arrow, Just to tell you how your love is law. Though it hurts a lunatic I am no more, If thee loves me not then to hell I must go, To willow in pain and curse as I hear any other similar lore, Of men like me who dug their own graves and had painful sores, Because try as hard as I can, I can’t resist how much your love is law.