(Song title from Robert Johnson’s catalogue, by Johnson)

“They’re red hot”,
That’s how we are described,
It must stem from our passion,
That’s where it must derive.

“They’re red hot”,
That’s how we are announced,
It must come from the kissing,
The lips that make me pounce.

“They’re red hot”,
That’s how we are perceived,
Behind closed doors we’ve grown cold,
We have learned to deceive.