Untitled Ballad

Voluminous hair is subtly fake,
And perfect slap
caked on galore,
With her tower-high heels she gracefully staggers
Loves playing the perfect young whore.


The night is a pageant, a wonderful chance,
To show the boys how she can move,
A beautiful throwaway princess surrenders,
A princess with nothing to lose.

She’s done it; she’s captured the heart of her suitor,
The ultimate feminine goal,
When his hands clutch her thigh, with a moan and a sigh,
He’s soothing her womanly soul.

Her rose-tinted eyes are caressing her prince,
No freedom or dignity lost,
She’ll wake with a bad head and man far from princely
And shamefully high taxi cost.