There goes that wishful swinging
The one so called, a dogs craving.
Her eyes are more than just a look
It tells a story of everything that she took.

The tables squeak their feet
As I wait in the pit
Admiring her hall of fame.
cadavers of lions, that she tamed.

The whip goes back and forth
And the wishful swinging finally subsides
Grinding my teeth with full on remorse
Because it's the rat that hangs by her side.

That awful creature burning her ears
Making stories out of fear
Down her eyes roll the tears
Of the memories in a smear

Careful words placed in her mouth
By the rat's name to his house
With a grain of pleasure he tried to escape
But she was too fast, and she ate

She is the alpha female afterall
Coming in with her legs wide open
Mentioning the lion on call
enjoying life for a moment

She's got the hourglass.
This much is true.
And for a grain of sand
Many lions came through

She's got the hourglass,
but, Money can't buy her time.
It's the pleasure of her class
That became a punishable crime.
To trade in a grain of pleasure
For the wishful swinging's leisure.



......A grain of sand for a bite off my hand.



Not worth it.