There is a man
Who likes to pretend
That he's pure and holy
When really his mouth only spews out baloney

                                      These hands of mine,
                           a thousand men have bested
                                  and thrice that the ladies
                                       they have pleasured!

This man likes to wear all white,
And on his head he props a halo.
He hides his forked tongue in plain sight
With which he claims to be a fine ole fellow

                                     These friends of mine
      All shapes, all colours, every walk of life
                                             All indebted to me
                                                 Oh! Without me,      
                                     they couldn't survive!

But like the viper in Aesop's fable
Your trust he repays the only way he's able
With your paramour he'll try his luck
Rejected he'd say "All I wanted was a free ****"

                        No matter, for with any luck 
                             The old lady will let me out
          There are girls who've taken my buck
    And they'll take it again without a doubt

So of this false angel be wary
A conscience he has not
Web of lies and deceit his main plot
For he has no friends only quarry

                              *Here lies A
                     Certainly a class Act
           For when the reaper came to play
            You can be sure no one wept