Jan 2014
Here lie the golden girls
pretty maidens, advocates of sin
Her lie the in their earthen beds
Those born of evil, those who win
One such young lovely, with hair of liquid night, Liked to frolic in bare dresses
Her favorite playthings were her men, her asset her dark tresses
It became her life this mad chase, the center of her being
It mattered not the man or place or time, to engage in her filthy doings
Easy was the girl in tow, a slave to insatiable ****** craving
The only thing of value was, to reach the height semblance of flying
She got a babe to grow inside her once, six more with different fathers
When upon her came the syphilis bug, love her no one bothers
The other maiden fine and fair, has eyes as pale as silver
Her demon rocks in iron chains, turbulent as the winds that blow inside her
What scares her most is growing old, the waning fickle moon of beauty
For ever since she was a babe in crib, they've always called her pretty
A love of looks indeed, my dear, nothing can be queerer!
But to this young lass all that counts-- is what she sees in the mirror
Hung herself she did one morn, when there appeared a wrinkle
She's rather die young and bold she says, before the rest of her skin crinkles
The third of these young bright gems, is cunning as fox or raven
With hair that glows red, like a thousand fires, to money she is slaven
There can never be less just more and more
such an ugly trait to be practiced by such a gentle flore
She does all she can to gain each coin, each soiled valued paper
As her greed grew and money too, her spirit left like vapor
There is no limit to the rest, so long as you have cash
It was all of which she spoke, until she became again, ash to ash
The last of these four maidens tragic, was the one lover of snow
All year she'd search for kind a hand, for someone to bestow
Upon her lips, her nose, her brow, a taste of man-made magic
Just try it once and once enough, the beginning of many a story tragic
She sold her goods, ones people would buy, herself a commodity standing
And years go by, she's but a husk, a story;s unhappy ending
All worth it was the snow, she said. it gave her new perspective
Though when she died an ****** hag, that opinion was subjective
Here lie the golden girls
pretty maidens, advocates of sin
Her lie the in their earthen beds
Those born of evil, those who win
pretty maidens, advocates of sin
Her lie the in their earthen beds
Those born of evil, those who win
One such young lovely, with hair of liquid night, Liked to frolic in bare dresses
Her favorite playthings were her men, her asset her dark tresses
It became her life this mad chase, the center of her being
It mattered not the man or place or time, to engage in her filthy doings
Easy was the girl in tow, a slave to insatiable ****** craving
The only thing of value was, to reach the height semblance of flying
She got a babe to grow inside her once, six more with different fathers
When upon her came the syphilis bug, love her no one bothers
The other maiden fine and fair, has eyes as pale as silver
Her demon rocks in iron chains, turbulent as the winds that blow inside her
What scares her most is growing old, the waning fickle moon of beauty
For ever since she was a babe in crib, they've always called her pretty
A love of looks indeed, my dear, nothing can be queerer!
But to this young lass all that counts-- is what she sees in the mirror
Hung herself she did one morn, when there appeared a wrinkle
She's rather die young and bold she says, before the rest of her skin crinkles
The third of these young bright gems, is cunning as fox or raven
With hair that glows red, like a thousand fires, to money she is slaven
There can never be less just more and more
such an ugly trait to be practiced by such a gentle flore
She does all she can to gain each coin, each soiled valued paper
As her greed grew and money too, her spirit left like vapor
There is no limit to the rest, so long as you have cash
It was all of which she spoke, until she became again, ash to ash
The last of these four maidens tragic, was the one lover of snow
All year she'd search for kind a hand, for someone to bestow
Upon her lips, her nose, her brow, a taste of man-made magic
Just try it once and once enough, the beginning of many a story tragic
She sold her goods, ones people would buy, herself a commodity standing
And years go by, she's but a husk, a story;s unhappy ending
All worth it was the snow, she said. it gave her new perspective
Though when she died an ****** hag, that opinion was subjective
Here lie the golden girls
pretty maidens, advocates of sin
Her lie the in their earthen beds
Those born of evil, those who win
