A Flat Out LIe!
There once was a girl with pearl earrings,
Who taught English to men with small ding-a-lings,
She'd kiss their pale necks,
but stop before sex,
whenever she'd find no harsh piercings.
She needed a man with harsh fingers,
Like actors or sculptors or singers,
the men with the thoughts,
like stinky wet socks,
to wait on the side, like dead ringers.
So she cut off her hair like a flower,
pumped iron to give her more power,
went hunting for boys,
using donuts and toys,
but caught nothing for hours and hours.
And now she's an old, bitter pile,
wrinkled and sticky and vile,
her hopes all been smashed,
the Hindenburg's crashed,
so she smothers her blood on the tiles.