She chucked three kings of club
across the room with just enough
velocity to slice open the three crude
gentlemen s hearts she sat with

Classically finishing her hand
and retiring for the night
Ms Claiborne snaps her digits and
is carried away

That poor card room floor
never gets any rest
The weight from dead bodies
night after night
has permanently warped its sense of humor

Oh wood has never been so forgiving
The floor prays to be metal
Even a soft one
Something I could ram in that bitches cunt

For these bodies they stink
And when the crew goes home
she fucks them
And thinks that nobody knows

With all lights off
And no secret Santa's
I can still feel you whore
the bouncing and bouncing
The redness of your ass
The smell of them turkeys
You gotta get a new route

But honestly I know not
Just what I would do
If you didn't put on this show every night
I might not hold you up

11/27/2007

Posted on 11/28/2007
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