shooting to high

She had the brain the size of a planet    
That lesser minds orbited like foolish satellites    
And tongue that could dessicate a man's hope    
As easily as slicing onions    
Why she choose me and I her    
Only those that studied    
The chemistry of pheromones    
 And the laws that govern the physics of the soul    
Could solve such a equation    
She was no looker    
With flabby thighs and small tits    
And hair that danced to an independent beat    
but her voice was nectar;golden syrup    
 To soothe the darkness of the empty night    
And we had fun in those long evenings  
Her words fell like rain onto fertile soil    
But thing like this couldn't last    
For how could workman's hands    
Satisfy a being like this    
She left without a whimper    
And that made me smile    
The last I heard she was living in a fancy red brick house    
With a professer of something    
Somewhere along the coast    
And I returned to my weary tracks    
And same old familiar ways