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I like to bark but I don't bite. I would love to bite but I just don't.

I should, dear Whitman, love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote my income and labor to others. Hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people.

Take off my hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families. Re-examine all I have been told at school or church or in any book and dismiss whatever insults my own soul.

And of course bang Mark Ronson.

I don't want him, you can have him, he's not worth fighting for. Besides there's plenty more where he came from. I don't want him you can have him.

All I ever wanted to do was...

Wipe his glasses when he's read the news. Rub his forehead with a gentle touch, mornings after when he's had a little too much. Kiss him gently when he cuddles near, and give him babies one for every year.

I'd fix the breakfast that would please him most. Eggs and coffee some apricot juice and some buttered toast. Then I'd go out and buy the papers, and when they've been read, spend the balance of the day in bed.

So you see that I don't want him, you can have him. You can have him cos I don't want him because he's not my man. He's not the man for me.

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