The Usual

There's a lie that rests on your finger
Shining through the grey smoke that
Fills the air of the room you visit every two nights
Thick with thousands of smells to that attract you

I sit there and watch as she works her magic on you
Letting you take control
Checking her reflection in the lie on your finger
She gets paid by the hour and she's getting paid!

The other girls are used to the sounds in this house
The rumbling through these thin walls
The secrets kept under this roof
Muffled in the moans of her magic

There's a quiet knock at the door
Neither of you are bothered nor do you notice
It's my usual client that comes every other day
Pocket filled with money

I put on the smell he loves the most
I open the door slowly and pull him in
I have to go now, I get paid by the hour
I've got my own magic to work