Painted faces, Filigree bracelets, By the light of the chandelier. Hemmed curves, To be observed, A handsome man to be interned, Perfumed hair, Fluted glasses, A handsome man is making passes. Hunger masked, Who will he ask, Please look at me look at me look at me.
Oh bitch, please! A man so conceived Will drunkenly fumble with you, then leave; The picture of sadness your face will be. But perhaps that’s how you’ll learn, like me, That the woman in life with happiness truest Is not she who has the most men, but the fewest.