I was chaos in delicate lace,
in satin and taffeta; a pretty face
what they see is what I let
a peek behind; they may regret.

I was chaos in delicate lace,
with smiles charming--- tears no trace
lips with chapstick; smudge on side
nothing but a breathless ride.

I was chaos in delicate lace,
disarray with class and taste
I reek of Chanel and all things sweet,
nothing but a foul treat.

I was chaos in delicate lace,
only but a pretty face
a troubled heart and restless mind,
a woman whose love is always blind.