Femme fatale, a rosy smell
a spell to excel her attire
a dress so tight, black as night
the sight invite desire
Winking eyes, blinking lies
arise to size my member
a bitten lip, just the tip
whip my ship with temper
Feeble will, heart be still
as thrill did kill my objection
Moral slope, no more rope
as i hope to cope with rejection
