I want a flat, and a cat.
I want open-plan, yet homely.
Only not too homely, I want it to be cool.
I want it to break a few rules.
I want mountains and fountains.
I want artwork and design.
Murals, plural.
Tapirs, topiary, tophats, potpourri.
Bi-fold doors, polished floors.
Iron gates, dry stone walls.
Aqauriums, terrariums, vivariums, solarium.
Solar panels, satellite channels.
Chanel number 5, mambo number 5, Johnny 5, 5 alive.
A live bear, a nice chair.
A big shed, bigger bed.
"Zed's dead baby, Zed's dead."
Blueberry pancakes, bran flakes, fishing lakes.
Cinema room, cinnamon room.
Roomba, zumba, slumber.
Humberside, ironside, side of chips.
Datsun, Aston, Tesla, Edison.
Llama, farmer, karma, snake charmer.
Charmander, arm and a leg.
Legolas, lassie, see-saw, saundersfoot.
Cross bow, boss crow, crow bar, bro car?
Gold! Gimme gold.
Give me a consonant please Carol.
I want a writing den, diamond pen.
Pig pen cipher, Big ben, Eiffel.
I want a throne, a clone, the new iPhone.
A crown, a town, my initials embroidered onto my dressing gown.
I want it all.
I want what you've got.
I want what you haven't got too.
I want four walls, and a door.
I want you, and not much more.