Ant Smith

Love

I Won't

I won't buy for you a dozen roses

For I know you fear pricks

I won't book for us a fancy dinner

Or splash out on tickets

I won't make all my special sexy moves

On the back row at the flicks

Instead I'll do the kind of things

I know that make you tick

I won't bring you swedish chocolates

Or things that make you sick

I won't take you out to gay old Paris

Or other crazy shit

I won't offer you the very moon

For you know I don't own it

Instead I'll strip my clothing off

And offer you my bits

I won't send to you some stupid card

I ordered with mouse clicks

I won't present to you my bleeding heart

That's not a good antic

I won't go to hell inside a handcart

Or swim the river Styx

Instead I'll simply play my part

For you're my true epic

Love