She's gone from my life like my old pickup truck.
She was slow from the start, and constant bad luck.
Her face was all worn and her hair colored rust.
We had some good times but the truck had more trust.

She spent all my money on useless new things
like gadgets and shoes and makeup and rings.
At times she resembled a leech that just sucks.
She will never replace my old pick-up trucks.

The memories remain like a vicodin nightmare.
She painted the kitchen to match her underwear.
She traded my hunt dog for a french poodle yapper.
Now I'm glad she can no longer roost on my crapper.

She promised me kisses, attention and more
she promised me bedtimes of being a whore.
It lasted two months before it was over.
Now I kicked her ass out and I got back my Rover.

The lesson in this is easy to remember.
The next time you party late in December
limit the amount of drinks that you have
refuse all rides home and just call a cab.