She calls to my senses
My head swims in her song
I am lost in her music
Her pull is so strong.
Her spell has entrapped me
She is stealing my heart
I stay here in silence
As she weaves her dark art.
She captures my mind
with her words as she sings
She tells of the pleasure
Her warm body brings.
The softness the firmness
the sent of her sweat.
She knows I'll fall pray.
She has already bet.
She does not really love me
It's her form of abuse.
For the way that she lures me
she has no excuse.
She knows nature calls to me
she's sure of her craft.
She knows at her magic
she is rarely surpassed
No one escapes her
she's deadly and sure.
For the song she will sing to you
There is not a cure
She's lovely she's crafty
You best run while you can,
or your life will be over
long before it began.
Rew 6/23/04