She’s a siren.
The kind o thing that will draw you in
With the magnet of womanly magic
You don’t know why you’re drawn in
But you keep following her voice
While she dances and plays
Stringing your blind attraction to her.
She loves to tease, hold and release
Makes sport of your hopeless attraction
She seems to breathe it!
You’ve been told of her song
The sad sweet song,
She, the poor creature living a warm-less existence
Begging for your comfort and embrace,
And when you finally think you have her
For yourself in your grasp,
To remove her sorrows and be her joy
To remove her halfness and make her whole
A man eater you release,
And you live only longer enough
To see the thing you called beauty
Turned into a whore-cannibal,
Whose food shall be your heart.