Bitch Timmy the Dog (Ft. Tim Minchin)

What’s the fuss to you? It’s all the same
I just want to know the new guy's name
I need to know so if I call and you're not home
I know who I'm abusing when he answers your phone
And assuming that my photo still hangs above your bed
I wonder, as he's sweating, what is going through his head
Or is he one of those guys that always keeps his eyes
Firmly closed during fellatio?

So who’s the fella this week, bitch?
Who’s the guy who’s scratching your itch?
Does he make you laugh? Do you like him much?
Does he have any brains above his crotch?
Do you like to go where he goes?
Or does he just keep your ego feeling healthy?
I bet he’s really wealthy
Does he have a shiny car? Know all the blokes behind the bar?
I bet he’s got a real job kissing arse of corporate knobs
Is his manliness reflected in the beer cans he’s collected?
Does he call you every morning? Does his accent make you horny?
Did he get down on his knees and offer you the key to his apartment?

I'm sure his sweet carresses will fill the huge crevasses
I left when I left

I need to know what you were doing all those years you were mine
Did you think the guy on top of you was wasting your time?
And although you always smiled when I knocked on your door
Were you wishing you were in Northbridge in a Holden Commodore
That has black sheepskins on the seats and a set of satin sheets
In the boot in case he scores a root?