by Peter Loaf
The kidnapped trophy, Billionaire Bob
Old Discount Davy, got a good deal
Flying to nowhere, whimpering slave
Subbie-lust sailor, pain whore in fact
Dying in brothel, Spanish complaint .
Streets of Manhattan, millions of souls
Proud sexy woman, a girl with goals
A taxi waiting
My address stating
A hissing sleepy, black spinning holes
His third arm-candy, an inside job
Ransom demanded
My mind expanded
Ransom refusing, “Not one thin bob!”
Slave market basement, copping a feel
In crate transported
The news unreported
The insider Bob, third wife to peel
Body bagged helpless, full body shave
Nose ringed and bundled
Freight trolley trundled
At last delivered, old Discount Dave
A stateless person, naked and bound
My perfect body, passing around
Customers bidding
Fortune he’s getting
Rock star reception, my weakness found
The rougher the better, my pooper packed
Trophy wife lesson
Mistake confessin’
Pre-nup agreement, weakness attacked
From top to bottom, the whip marks paint
Too many sailors
Butchers and tailors
I smile at the last, to Death’s restraint