Dressed to kill

Dressed to kill

Pulling on your stockings, they slide slowly up your thighs, putting on your lingerie, there's make-up on your eyes

You look into the mirror, you reach for your mobile phone, you take several pictures for you poet whose back home

You know he'll go crazy, he adores every picture that you send, he thinks your adorable, you know this by every poem penned

It's time to slide on your dress, pull on your sexy heels, you run your hand across your dress, you love the way it feels

You stand in a sexy pose, more pictures for your poet boy, you put on a sexy smile, you look demure and coy

You flick through the pictures, there's so many it takes a little while, you know he's gonna love them, you're gonna make him smile

So you put them on a email, then you send them down the line, in a few seconds, those lovely gifts were mine

Ron