He’s one of those lion cubs
taught while he was very young
to never become an indebted one
Its sweet that at only twenty three
He thinks that he can ever pull the wool over me
I know that he doesn’t want freedom
or he wouldn’t let me drink his cum
or his cute coat wouldn’t be so attracting…
I conquer in the space where he thinks I’m dumb
I’m death in sheeps’ clothing
Baaaaa-haaaha ing like country icecream, that he gets fat off of…
But as most men are full of folly, as he is
Stuck believing he can get off Scot free with his infectious kiss, only
He ain’t ready for bliss, I’m his Ouija
Only problem is, only problem to his resistance might be
My kiss, his kiss, this shit, fuck that, fact is, look, see,
Every time that his perfect lips touch mine he gets more of my disease
A risk only a worthy challenger would take indeed
Since I will lie, or steal or cry or cheat…
To win my walking, talking, royal fresh meat
Antony, Thor, Caesar, Rhamases
You belong to the the eternal true Queen…
You are all of these men to me, I’m musing,
Since I am the reason that you end up with everything…
I’m sad that you’re surprised that your goddess is not
a young blonde collegiate fling, Fuck with what you got…

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