Saturday night and I’m feeling real good, feelin’ real fine

When in walks *that* friend of a friend of mine.

With elevator eyes and octopus arms

I’m all-to-aware he’s a fan of my charms

Hey.  He says.

Looking good.

I’d fuck you.

In my cloud of rage, I say, 

Ew.

Only in your wildest wet dream

Cuz

If you did, I would scream:

Rape.

He’s all, “Feminazi bitch”

like I should be flattered I’d scratch his itch.

Well, I’m not willing, I’m not in.

And he won’t get it without Rufilin

Part Two:

I’m not looking for a free drink and meal

I just want a man who won’t ‘cop a feel’

Who doesn’t use tequila to mess with my head

Who won’t call me a whore if we end up in bed

Jersey-Shore-Wannabes? “The Game”-playing dudes?

You might wanna reconsider that attitude

You’re pushing 30 and she’s 18

There’s no way I can say this without sounding mean…

But

Your balls will sag, your hair will thin

And you’ll find your testosterone’s not what it’s been

You’ll wish you’d trapped some nice girl with a ring

When you’ve got that teen home—and she takes out your thing

And she goes down…

But you can’t get it up!