I look under my bed
where my sweetheart likes to sleep
She is laying there all quite
she doesn’t make a peep
She only comes out occasionally
maybe about three times a week
I give her a bit of a wash
and she shines like brand new
She doesn’t look like anybody
Or maybe just a bit like you
I took her shopping the other day
I got a lot of curious glances
Cause my baby squeaks when she
She has an O for a mouth
So she cant really talk
We couldn’t get home quick enough
My sweetheart crawled under the bed
She looked really sad
and kind of deflated
The next day we decided to try again
We went to the beach
There was a good breeze blowing
and my sweetheart started to float
I tied her down with fishing line
so she didn’t stray.
And still she didn’t have anything to say
She started to squirm and squeak
looking lost and uncomfortable
She had sand in every crevice and crack
We left the beach
and we didn’t go back
We got back home
and we needn’t something to eat
I fed her with a spoon
but she was full
she didn’t have any room
The next day we thought we would
go to the Cinema
What could go wrong inside?
Just then I heard a whistling sound
My baby was going down on me
And not in the way that you think
She looked at me disparingly
and she started to shrink
Jesus,get me out of here
I need a goddamn drink.
I tucked her under my arm
and made my way to my car
Blue lights flashing in my rear
We didn’t get very far.
Mr Policeman knocks on my window
and asks me for my licence
He glances over at my girlfriend
Sitting there all quiet
looking a bit under the weather
And he says’Have I got a licence
‘For what?’ I ask.
He said that if you want to own a
You have to pay the price
He said that if I don’t pay
‘How long do you think your secret
‘Word around here travels very fast.’
So I handed him $1oo
and we were on our way.
Mr Policeman looked at me
and said ‘Have a nice day.’
On our way home
I stopped to buy some skin tone
We get home and I lock the door with
all three latches.
I don’t want to get interrupted.
My plastic sweetheart
just lays there on the floor.
All untidy and crumpled up
She needs some care a bit of air.
So I am pumping away
getting all sweaty and hot
Come on baby breath that air
so we can jump in the cot.
Nothing seems to be happening
My sweetheart is still deflated
My plastic sweetheart is overrated.
The next morning and the pump has
done its job.
My plastic sweetheart is all full of
Foot loose and fancy free.
I am going to fill her with something
This cant go on
people are starting to talk
They are saying that my sweetheart
That she is a fake.
And that she is only after one thing.
And that one thing is a wedding ring.
Come now I am not crazy
I know that after a few beers
I can get kind of hazy.
But I know the difference between
right and wrong.
I know the difference between plastic
and human flesh.
Is it love that I am feeling?
That is mighty debatable.
Cause you see.
My sweetheart is inflatable.