She walks delicately,
carefully, easily.
Right on by you.
She talks quietly,
beautifully, gracefully.
Right next to you.
Quickly she locks you in.

She whispers seductively,
huskily, sexily.
Right into your ear.
She says sweet things,
cute things, great things.
Straight to you.
And now she's getting through.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She smiles cutely,
quickly, embarrassed.
Just to get to you.
She blushes deeply,
innocently, easily.
While getting ready for you.
She has got you chained now.

She acts timidly,
shyly, less boldly.
To get closer to you.
She treats you well,
kindly, graciously.
Just to lie to you.
She's got you begging.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She holds your heart frighteningly,
tightly, brightly.
Making her own you.
She looks strong,
powerful, unforgettable.
Showing herself to you.
And now you see through it all.

She steps lightly,
passionately, happily.
Over to you.
She seems cruel,
evil, sinister.
Having played you.
Too bad it's nearly the end.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She holds herself dignifiedly,
highly, gloriously.
As she brings the knife to you.
She cuts deeply,
thrillingly, chillingly.
Straight into you.
If only you had known.

She moves smoothly,
willingly, cutely.
Right on by you.
She is biter,
sinister, crazy.
As she continues.
And it restarts, nothing new.