Commandeering the free will of men,
With her slow and slinky striptease,
Enslaving both the strong and the weak
We worship like fools from our knees,
She doesn’t have need of magic,
Nor does she rely on chemical lures,
She offers a taste of what men desire,
We’re her fools, that is for sure,
Achieving her needs with a glance,
Or with a sultry pout of her lips,
We offer all, both large and small,
As she softly gyrates her curved hips,
Briefly should you find favour,
The result of her whimsical whim,
Other men’s jealousy imagines,
Them tearing you limb from limb
