Don’t feed me like a puppy dog.
I see you as a famished hog.
You may roll over to gain my trust,
but our friendships’ metal is comprised of rust
-Only, throw in some warheads
and sprinkle friendly-fire on top.
Yup. I think that’d hit it right on the dot.

‘Cause you waddle on over
and you arch for my hand,
And I pet you not knowing-
I just cant understand.
It’s just Animal Instinct:
You don’t have it planned.
But you’ve oiled my fire,
and then had it fanned.

So as I rub your soft tummy,
I start to forget
all the anguish and turmoil
you’ve yet to repent.

Yet I caress you with fondness,
make sure your heart’s full,
and depend on you forgetting
that you’re just an animal.