I feel long fingers unwrap my fold
At last my story will be told
Too long I've stayed packed up tight
On a shelf and out of sight.
I need a guy, one who's broad
To cut a pose and strike a chord.
Rob fits the bill, he fills me out
He'll take me places, without a doubt.
I'm in a pub with music blaring
So many eyes on me their staring
Much admired, I've hit paydirt
Tom says “what a fucking great shirt!
I'm grey and my name is Stolichnaya
I'm a cool dude, a bit of a player
A party animal, vodka's my tipple
I feel some soaking into Rob's nipple.
Beer is flowing, some down me
By the taste, it's Bud I see
Cigarette ash, too late a hole
Careful Rob, I have a soul!
Wee small hours, I'm on the floor
Feeling tired, stretched and sore
But boy it was a bloody good night
All that booze, no wonder I'm tight.
Weeks go by, I'm borrowed by Tom
Then Rob takes me to see his mom
I can tell by her eyes that she's aghast
If she only knew about my past.
I'm being caressed, is this the end?
No, mum's sewing and I'm on the mend
No more holes, but then I pout
Oh god, Rob's stopped at an In N' Out.
As the months lengthen, the stitches rip
But I wouldn't have missed this ride, this trip
I may be wrinkled, I may be worn
But I'm in his suitcase on Breaking Dawn.
No longer seen, I'm kept by Kristen
It's the sentiment, she's insisting
So when it's cold I keep her snug
Living out my years in Rob's hug.
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