Mathilda

Oh decry,

With these two fingers I can show you why,

That I'm restricted,

When you kiss me so promiscuously,

I'll be screaming go-tilly-go,

Oh delay,

Without these shackles,

I can show the way,

To make you obfuscate,

And push aside utensils,

I'll be screaming go-tilly-go,

When all this commotion,

Dies down she'll deliver,

A subtle soliloquy,

Straight to his pillow,

Which frowns as she strikes it,

With fists that insist,

The light of their fridge door,

Was always a metaphor,

I'm bewildered,

So please explain to me,

Right now Mathilda,

How all the friction in your diction,

Leaves me staring at you,

I'm still screaming go-tilly-go,

I'll decide,

With these two fingers,

I can show you why,

Despite my lethargy,

And mispronunciation,

I'll be screaming go-tilly-go,

When all this commotion

Dies down, she'll deliver,

A pointed soliloquy,

So full of agony,

He'll be embarrassed,

And walk on the terrace,

Whose slate floor he always found,

Seemed like a metaphor,

Aaiiii...

P-r-o-m-i-s-e-s,

The promises,

P-r-o-m-i-s-e-s,