She's got that air of innocence about her
Untouched, untainted
Draws all the bad boys in.

The bad boys? You know the ones,
Motorcycles and leather jackets,
Cigarettes and black ink tattoos.

And even worse than that
A fickle charm they possess
A good girl they desire, in a pure oh so white dress.

She swears she's not naive -
I know better than that, she says.
The motorcycle stops outside her house.

The leather jacket rings the doorbell
The black ink reaches for her face
And nothing happens.

But he held her gaze for the longest time.