Mrs. Jones

 
Corner booth. My usual place  
Coffee spiced with a shot of Jameson  
Glass door swings wide for the big men  
Yep, they're all here now  
The big shits, in a small toilet.  
 
Under the brim of my Stetson  
Our eyes meet, Mr. Jones  
And all the smaller men  
Wanting to be you  
Can't look me in the eye  
 
Big table, for big men  
What are ya'll doin in my cafe  
Abusing my waitress  
With snide remarks and condescension  
Inflating your egos  
 
Ah, close to the country club  
Where you will all scamper about  
Chasing your little white balls  
Talk about your deals and stocks  
And fancy useless spotless pick-up trucks  
 
You forgot about one thing Mr. Jones  
Mrs. Jones  
You see, I'm headed to train too  
Been training your wife's ass for months  
She can almost take the whole thing now  
 
Her mouth is warm and wet  
She begs for something in it  
And someone who knows how to use his  
She is a wildcat with a sweet cunt  
And is eager to please, well, me anyway  
 
I think of you sometimes  
When I'm deep inside her  
Haven't you noticed her glow lately  
The twinkle in her eyes  
Can you smell me on her  
 
I pat your son's head as I leave  
Wondering if he can sense his mother's sin  
Don't worry, Mr. Jones  
I'll never let him call me daddy  
But Mrs. Jones? That's what she calls me