My love's heart is made of kitchen roll
My messy life is moped up by her love

Her hair's aroma is like a hotel's fried breakfast
It always smells so good in the mornings

Her hands have the qualities of my old school bus
So fragile, could break at any moment

Her waist reminds me of a road bicycle's tire
I can't believe how thin they both are

I'm sure my girl is the one for me
She puts up with my appalling poetry