(Shel Silverstein)

Ever' mornin' won't you you wake up early cook me
great big T-bone steak

Serve it to me in bed go on the street and hustle
bring me back all the money you make

Won't you rub my body with sweet scented oil,
cool me with a 'lectric fan

Run to the church fall down on your knees say
Lord I wanna thank you for that man

And I'll call that true love, true and sweet

That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin'

But baby that's the kind of love I need

I wanna come home every evenin' to a great big
meal of wine and roasted pheasant

I want you to say to me Ray, hey this is Susy,
this is Kay, I brought 'em both home to you for a
present

When The Man downs his soul and find my stash,
won't you tell 'em it belongs to you

And when you're sittin' in the slam tell all the
other chickies when they get out they should look
me up too

And I'll call that true love, true and sweet

That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin'

But baby that's the kind of love I need

Some guy accuses me of foolin' with his wife
threatens to take me apart

Points a gun at me, I want you to jump in the
middle and take the bullet in your own heart

And as you're lyin' on the floor and dyin', I
want you to look up at me and say

Hey Ray I'm sorry I messed up your rug, just roll
my body out of the way

And I'll call that true love, true and sweet

That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin'

But baby that's the kind of love I need

Hollywood calls you on the telephone I want you
to turn down the part

And when we're ballin' baby, ride on top so I
never ever strain my heart

And I'll call that true love, true and sweet

That ain't the kind of love I'm gettin'......

(c)1972 Evil Eye Music Inc.