Witches Are Bitches Eleven'th Hourglass Figure

    
Stands an army at attention    
   
By her commands---    
disperses! from the room    
   
doom doom    
   
doom doom    
   
Narrow-minded, its    
pursuits n purposes    
   
Uncouth, she wildly waves a broom    
   
accompanied by such ill-conceived    
verses zealously spelling out our doom    
in jealous spells quite hellish    
   
Final sands trickling from her    
eleventh hourglass figure    
the ego driven desperately relish    
   
Can't take back a single minute    
nor a second life of youth    
   
No matter how hard you try  
age is indefatigable Truth  
   
CLAP! CLAP!    
I clap my hands    
   
TAP! TAP!    
Click my ruby reds    
   
And as your armies halt    
in their tracks, turn their heads    
   
---I, Dorothy from the sky    
smacks your bitch up