She's the girl with the cherry red lipstick,
the full ******* and rounded hips.
They call her sweet ******;
pretty little ******.

You'll know when you see her.
She'll answer you with, yes sir.
But don't look into those lovely eyes;
they will hypnotize; entice.

And her tongue is sugar coated
with sly and tempting lies.
They draw you near and nearer
every time she licks her lips.

She captures the young men's hearts,
with her seductive youth.
She feeds on their lustful stares;
their male hormones, testosterones.

Their jealous girlfriends
give her the strength
to make it through the days;
to ignore the painful shame.

But every lonely night she cries
herself to sleep,
and prays to the heavens
to retrieve her innocence.

They call her sweet ******,
pretty little ******.
But I know her well as Sorrowful,
and pretty with a grieving heart.