Lyric Consequences

Without metaphors, my dear Sir.
Yes, I have a double chin,
Circles under my eyes.
I have grey hairs.
In short, I’m a middle–aged woman.

And you, young stud!

Yes, I’m tipsy and pale.
A run in my stocking
Crawls up my leg like a snake.
I’m handicapped
With a buttoned up throat,
My heart is an iceberg,
Don’t imagine you can thaw it.

Yes, I’m a scorched desert,
Dark–skinned as a Bedouin.
I’m no longer the little chrysanthemum
For you to scratch your balls with.

Yes, I’m harsh.
Yes, I’m wild.
A promiscuous woman.
At time dressed in purple
I lasso the colts
Offer them my seductive lips
While turning them away from You.

Oh what a simple act!
As when night falls on one and all.