The Dirtiest Album Ever Recorded* — Vol 3 (Finale) · Track 2 · middle
Let Me Put My Love Into You
PARODY, laundered-double-entendre album (Vol 3, the finale). Write ORIGINAL wholesome lyrics that SOUND suggestive from the title but are LITERALLY and innocently about carefully placing old photographs into a family scrapbook. The dirty mind is the listener's — the song is clean, DistroKid/YouTube-safe, G-to-PG. Vintage register to era. ⛔ CRITICAL COPYRIGHT RULE: do NOT reproduce, quote, or lightly paraphrase the source song's CHORUS/HOOK or ANY distinctive lyric line (even the famous tag line). Suno's filter WILL reject it and it creates real copyright liability. Borrow ONLY the general TITLE idea. Invent a completely fresh hook about carefully placing old photographs into a family scrapbook. Source parodied (idea only, never its words): Let Me Put My Love Into You (1980).
Lyrics
[Intro] Cedar dust in the attic light. Found you sleeping in this old trunk, closed up so tight. Been waiting for me all this time, haven't you? Yeah, I think you have. [Verse 1] Your cover is worn velvet, a dusty midnight blue. The spine is cracked, the gilded lettering is through. I turn the first page... that soft rustle of tissue guard. Black cardstock, waiting, holding its regard. And here, in this shoebox, a life unwound and scarred. Faded faces, scattered memories, dealt a heavy card. It's time they found their proper home, their resting yard. [Chorus] Oh, let me put my love into you. Handle it with care, make sure the placement's true. Line it up just right on the page, press it down so slow. Let me put my love into you, so the future will know. [Verse 2] This one's an albumen print, the date says 1893. My great-aunt Clara, age seventeen, staring right through me. I'll slide these little gummed paper corners on, so carefully. No modern glue will touch you, you'll be safe, you'll be free. Here's the family picnic from that hot July in 1924. My Uncle George in his new suit, just before he went to war. Each one a ghost knocking at my parlor door. Each one asking to be remembered, just a little more. [Chorus] Oh, let me put my love into you. Handle it with care, make sure the placement's true. Line it up just right on the page, press it down so slow. Let me put my love into you, so the future will know. [Bridge] Mark Twain knew the trouble with the old messy ways. He made a book for saving things in those bygone days. But what about the names nobody wrote down? The baby who never saw her second little town. The quiet cousin with the worried, nervous frown. I’m arranging them all, this silent, faded crowd. Speaking their stories quietly, never out loud. This is my work, on this hallowed ground. [Outro] One last picture to place inside. Now there's nowhere left for all this love to hide. All tucked in. Safe and sound. All tucked in now.