Texty: Shel Silverstein. I Call That True Love.

You gotta wake up every mornin',
Tip toe in the kitchen,
cook me a great T-bone steak,
Serve it to me in bed,
Go down the street and hustle,
Bring me back all the money you make.
You gotta rub my body with sweet scented oil,
Cool me with a 'lectric fan,
Run to the church
Fall down on your knees
Say "Lord I wanna thank you for that man"

And I'll call that true love,
True and sweet.
That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin',
But, baby, that's the kind of love I need.

Wanna come home every evenin'
To a great big meal
Of wine and roasted pheasant.
Say to me, "Shel, this is Susy,
This is Nell, I brought 'em both
Home to you for a present"
Cops bust in and find my stash,
You gotta tell 'em it belongs to you,
And when you're sittin' in slam,
Tell all the other chickies
When they get out,
They should look me up too.

And I'll call that true love,
True and sweet.
That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin',
But, baby, that's the kind of love I need.

Some guy accuses me
Of foolin' with his wife
And threatens to tear me apart
Points a gun at me.
I want you to jump in the middle
And take the bullet in your own heart,
And as you're lyin' on the floor and dyin',
I want you to look up at me and say
"Shel I'm sorry I messed up the rug,
Just roll my body out of the way"

And I'll call that true love,
True and sweet.
That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin',
But, baby, that's the kind of love I need.

Movie people call you on the telephone
I want you to turn down the part.
And when we're ballin', baby,
Ride my top so I never strain my heart.

And I'll call that true love,
True and sweet.
That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin',
But, baby, that's the kind of love I need.