Take your parents' credit cards
Buy a bunch of crap that you don't need
And will never ever use
Your mom and dad are out of town
And they trust you implicitly
A rubber chicken for the mailman
Is on your horizon

And there is nothing
That I'd rather do

Your sugar daddy's turning fifty
He shops for you indiscreetly
A fashion show
In his penthouse and black silk kimono
Step out into your short shorts
Put out as often as you need to
To make his summer number one