2000 Orchids (or Something)

I love my trophy wife and she says she loves me
for only who I am: a rich celebrity
Like I would die for you or something

I run home every afternoon to check the machine in my room
This is the fourteenth day that I don't have a message from you
That just makes me feel so awful

It's worse than I pretend, but not as bad as Grisham writes
I cried when Kubrick died, you still miss 'The Heights'
Like you ain't got a brain or something

This happens every afternoon
2000 orchids in your room
and then some jackass points out that you aren't living here

That just makes me feel so awful
I hope you die cold and lonely