When I reflect upon flawed loved,
I see dollar signs above your head,
The writing was on the wall; read.
And the paychecks were all in the bank.

Thirty to forty dollars spent a night,
I've known cheaper whores, some free,
I lent my lockbox, and you were the Key.
Oh well; money come and money goes.

Why then did I linger so long in it all?
I hoped for a refund, which never came.
Even the government knows that game.
But parasites (you) will never know it.