Nothing has changed.

Four days in the desert,

eating sand and drinking sweat,

wishing that you'd strap me to your pony

and then keep on riding west.

 

Nothing has changed.

You're still the one for me.

 

Fourteen days as a galley slave,

sandwiched between two guys called Dave.

See the latticework on my buttocks and back.

Hear the unjustly lusty whip cracks.

My fellow wretches look to the skies and

weep.  I keep my eyes on the horizon,

hoping to look up the skirt of your hovercraft.

Maybe you've got too much to do,

to mount an impromptu sea rescue.

You used to call me your John Shaft.

 

Nothing has changed.

I still love you.

 

Four months selling timeshare

from a portakabin in Heanor,

when all I really want to do

is an NVQ in pleasing you.

But needs must when the devil drives.

In this stagnant pool, our love still thrives.

Your pedicures won't pay for themselves.

I spend my weekends erecting shelves.

 

Nothing has changed.

You're still the one for me

and I love you, baby.

 

 

B.R. 12/01/2015