Quill

She’s a postmodern girl.
In a very modern world.
Living life just day to day.
You’d hope it’s fine.

Stuck with cybernetic swirls.
And those dominatrix curls.
When I try to run away.
She holds the line.

Under the moon and the sun go we.
Into the distant relief.
I’m crushed to believe.

Long Quill.
Impaling spine.
Breakneck.
I’m glad you are mine.

Long Quill.
So pale and fine.
Train wreck.
And I’ve run out of time.

Dishing out those punishments.
In her high heels when I’m spent.
She’s got murder in her eyes.
And she don’t lie

Ask for mercy, she won’t cater.
Hear her laughing like a satyr.
She’s a fiend in frilly lace.
I don’t know why.

Into the quest of the longest dusk.
Ten hours on it still feels brief.
I’m crushed to believe.

Long Quill.
Impaling spine.
Breakneck.
I’m glad you are mine.

Long Quill.
So pale and fine.
Train wreck.
And I’ve run out of time.

She’s been prowling like a puma.
Changed her spots but still a zoomer.
Know the tiger by her stripes and she knows you.

She’s been roaring like a lion.
In the ceiling she’s been spyin’
When the panther pants she’ll change her point of view.

Licking her lips as she readies her whips.
She’ll cause nothing but pleasure and grief.
I’m crushed to believe.

Long Quill.
Impaling spine.
Breakneck.
She says “you are mine.”

Long Quill.
So pale and fine.
Train wreck.
I’m running out of time.