I feel like scored clay

Rough unless I attach myself to you

I see your faceIn the Christmas magazine, in a candy cane

I am going to start letting you

Put spinach in my eggs

It′s obvious I'm Olive Oyl and you′re Popeye

I'm not worried about the rest of my life

Because you are here today

I go back in time

I'm a cast iron

What about the sweet

Glazed streets of your

Ho-hum hometown?

There I sat in warm-enough shade

Do you miss that reckless life?

Maybe I′m asking myself

It is only fair

To ask myself too

You don′t love me?

That's okay, God

Loves me, Target

Loves me, Gap loves

Me, you will be

So successful

You′ll buy new friends!