high maintenance girl.

 
      There she goes,high maintenance girl.
      Is it lonely up there,looking down on the world?
      Your dress is Armani,your bag, Jimmy Choo,
      both of them fake,just like you.
      When you enter the bar your playing to the crowd,
      seeking attention,being that little too loud.
      And you put on that voice that you think is so endearing,
      to get what you want from the guys who are learing,
      And buying you drinks,trying hard to impress.
      In the hope of getting you drunk and undressed,
      they dangle like puppets,each,to a man
      drawn like moths to the glow of your fake orange tan.
      And your friends look just like you,and all act the same.
      Like human siZed peices in a Monopoly game,
      you tour round the nightclubs,screening the guys,
      praying that one night ,you`ll scoop up the priZe,
      a premiership footballer,life as a W.A.G.
      Well you`d better hurry up before your tits start to sag.
      When the wrinkles appear,and your looks start to go,
      you`ll be chatting up blokes,and they wont want to know.
      Though you`ll probably get botox,or your enlargements made bigger.
      Good luck,you shallow high maintenance ,gold digger.