She's on a beach in Maui her breasts are half uncovered I try to stop myself from staring at her bu*t I'm drawn like Dagwood to sleep The lawn may need mowing but still I can't prevent my thoughts From becoming obscene so I justify, she's only a page in a magazine She's not real, she doesn't feel. Eyes pierce her scraps of cloth. Her value is lost Crown of all creation, bane of jealous angels She's nothing more to me than food for a fantasy And though I know it's a shame, I won't turn away My thoughts are so casually lead astray And I know it's not right it feels so unclean but she's just a page in a magazine She's not real, she doesn't feel. Eyes pierce her scraps of cloth. Her value is lost 49er, gold prospector. Her body is my claim As she a**umes some cheesy pose, imagination see's no close And I don't even know her name Her body breaks my minds leash like Gus broke his chain