Prostitute,
How she never cleans up her room,
Like eternity would be to soon
No good for nothing but watching TV,
Or reading a book in a comfortable seat
To lazy for walking the right way,
Still to difficult to hold at bay
Having issues with her whole childhood
Writing diary’s with crimson colored blood
Spitting what’s on her mind
Even without good words to find
Just like the guy’s walking after her dick
Or hurting people with a dick-like-stick
How she loves to be with the guy’s
Which of course she kind off denies
Disliking almost every girl she met
Treating them like a little pet
Always evil on her thought
Nothing good ever brought
And without any gratitude,
… his unpaid prostitute