Soy Snob

I'm a snob.
I'm a snob.
It's my best flaw.
It took me months of work to achieve it.
It's such a busy life,
but now...
I'm delighted with the result.

I'm a snob.
Terribly snob.
All my friends are,
because being a snob is a love affair.

Dressed in Pucci.
Cebu shoes.
The Madrid bra.
A ruby on the finger.
On the toe, hey!
Black nails
to match the stockings.

I go to the movies
just to watch Swedish films.
When I go to the night club.
I order whiskey straight...
Chaca-chaca, chaca-chaca...
I don't suffer from the liver, oh no!.
It's not in fashion anymore.
I have an ulcer
that's more pathetic
and less slutty.

I'm a snob.
I'm a snob.
I have a subscription to the fine arts...
but I don't go.
Every morning
I ride through the grass
because I'm fascinated
by the smell of shit.
I only visit the nobles
with double last names.
I'm a snob.
I'm a snob.
And when I make love
I do it with gloves in the dining room.

I have a
spectacular wardrobe.
I have accidents on Tuesdays
in my Jaguar.
Because in these subtleties
snobbery is distinguished.
I'm so snob,
that Jackie Onassis
invited me
to her last funeral.

Oh! Just one more time.
I'm a snob,
so snob,
that when I die
I'll have a Christian Dior shroud.
A Christian Dior shroud.