Shes on a beach in Maui her breasts are half uncovered I try to stop myself from staring at her butt Im drawn like Dagwood to sleep The lawn may need mowing but still I cant prevent my thoughts From becoming obscene so I justify, shes only a page in a magazine Shes not real, she doesnt feel Eyes pierce her scraps of cloth Her value is lost Crown of all creation, bane of jealous angels Shes nothing more to me than food for a fantasy And though I know its a shame, I wont turn away My thoughts are so casually lead astray And I know its not right it feels so unclean But shes just a page in a magazine Shes not real, she doesnt feel Eyes pierce her scraps of cloth. Her value is lost 49er, gold prospector Her body is my claim As she assumes some cheesy pose, imagination sees no close And I dont even know her name Her body breaks my minds leash like Gus broke his chain
shes, cloth, scrap, pierce, value