Oh, she doesn't make me happy.
No, she makes me groan and beg.
She sees me as a lonesome dog
all hunched up on her leg.

I'd sooner choose somebody else
to lay beside, in bed.
Our psycho-social mania
is messing up my head.

She lures me upon loose damp ground,
her spade digs around the edges.
I drop inside a dim abyss
in memories she dredges.

I hear she has some children now,
tho I've not been where they're from.
She asked me under cover,
and I had no chance to come.

So big sis, I guess, or cousin dear,
you really had me clenched;
and I lie in bed each morning,
seems you since became so drenched.