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“Well, you ask why I love you,
Love you like I do.
You don’t seem none too certain
That I’ll always be true.
So let me say it clearly,
Let me spell out the facts:
I love you for your fat contract,
Your network of contacts,
The jingle of your silver and your ingots piled in stacks.
Million bucks a week, soaking up the heat,
Basking in the sunshine on a California beach.
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I see I’ve not convinced you,
You ask me once again,
Why it is I prize you
Above all other men.
So I’ll reiterate it,
State it in white and black:
I love you for your bulgin’ moneybags,
Like all the other WAGs,
It’s lovely to wear Prada when I used to dress in rags.
Million bucks a week, earning-power peak,
Hangin’ out with Tom Cruise, Al Pacino, Meryl Streep.
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Have you twigged why I love you,
Love you like no one else?
There’s folk insinuating
I love you for your wealth.
Do you know what I answer? –
‘Well, what’s so bad ‘bout that?
I love him for his Portfolio,
His pad in Monaco,
His private jet to whisk me from LA to Tokyo.
Million bucks a week, but I ain’t fazed or freaked,
A leading role in Hollywood, oh, wouldn’t I look chic?’
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Now you know why I love you,
Love you with all my heart.
So don’t go getting restless,
And chasing after tarts.
‘Cos if you ever leave me,
You slimy little rat,
I’ll sue you for…Breach of Contract,
I’ll stretch you on the rack,
Take you to the cleaners, strip the shirt right off your back.
And there I shall be, million bucks a week,
You with just a begging-bowl to sleep rough on the streets…”