I ran back
down to Piccadilly Square
just to get a closer look
at that doll baby.

She rambled by so quickly in
striped red & white stockings,
her lemon yellow
draped her shoulders,
bouncing like springs,
like her gorgeous *******
& that sweet ****-tune.

She had vibrant graffiti
sprayed on her arms,
wore come-do-me ruby stilettos
as she glided like a storm trooper
along the promenade.

Her blackened full lips puckered,
with slanted paparazzi shades,
leaving a wake of open-mouthed
wide-eyed gawkers speechless.

Man, she was tough,
a rare cool bird,
struttin' her pretty
hot stuff,
it left me breathless.