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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sweets
He takes pride in his killer ways
A pro packing a blue steel gun
He laments when a victim prays
But he's a hit man on the run
A whore decides to take him in
Just fascinated by his trade
The scars crisscrossing on his skin
And blue tattoos, dragons that fade
She leads him smoothly to her bed
Where he dumps her on dirty sheets
And he insists she give him head
Then has the nerve to call her "sweets"
Her patience quickly running out
She flings him deftly on his back
She slides her cunt and swills some stout
Forgets about that sweetness crack.
A pro packing a blue steel gun
He laments when a victim prays
But he's a hit man on the run
A whore decides to take him in
Just fascinated by his trade
The scars crisscrossing on his skin
And blue tattoos, dragons that fade
She leads him smoothly to her bed
Where he dumps her on dirty sheets
And he insists she give him head
Then has the nerve to call her "sweets"
Her patience quickly running out
She flings him deftly on his back
She slides her cunt and swills some stout
Forgets about that sweetness crack.
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