I don't really love him,

that's what you should know,

But Clay feels good

between fingers & toes...

He feels good between me

and the cold of the streets...

And Clay feels like gold

when between satin sheets....

I like to work him,

mold him and shape him...

I dig him out

because he lets me rape him...

Clay was a freshman,

or that's the expression,

He's under my nails

and I cannot escape him.

But there's something quite rich

about playing with Clay,

Though I am a bitch

for what I'm gonna say:

I don't really love him;

I don't really care...

And I only climb him because he is there.