He'll talk and make your voice sound high pitched
Dread to think if he got you on your own and whispered in your ear in that baritone

It's the same stone
His heart was cut out of the same stone that they use to carve his jaw
It's impossible not to feel inferior

And he could catapult you back to your daddy or into any hissing misery
And he will tell you how the day after a triumph is as hollow as the day after a tragedy
He'll extinguish any chance of escape when he slaps you on your arse or kisses your nape
And he's leaving without saying bye

And they would queue up to listen to him pissing and hang around to watch some poor girl blub
And then they'd chase him down the avenue incessantly pestering him to let him join the club
He knows how to put a cork in the fuss and just how to shut up the charming ones of us

And I've seen him talking to your lady friend

There's a dust track waiting for betrayal where he'll teach you all the bits they missed