I know I’m worth a million bucks
Tough jobless at in the present
I check my mail and all I find
Some offer from a faceless person
And hotmail puts them in my junk
You said you saw my profile somewhere
“How nice,” I thought “but where?”
You said I sounded lovely there
But I really can’t remember writing stuff
That make me lovable,
That’s not me,
Just someone else!
I have people sounding all spiritual
With hallelujah chants
They write politely unlike my close good friends
It makes their deception smile
And everyday I get them by the truckloads
Sweet promises that dreams would all be possible
I guess that’s why they call them junk mail
Though they paint the color gold
In time their shine will fail
I get my share of junk mail, that offer me millions of bucks or for a shot at romance. I find it amusing sometimes when I read them. But in their well mannered stance, bordering spiritual sometimes, go figure, they are just trying to fish the next gullible person who believes in all their junk.
