A siren with curves so obscene,
Would grind till your thoughts weren’t clean.
She'd ride with a moan,
Till you begged in a groan,
Then smirk, “Hope you’re good for round three.”
Would grind till your thoughts weren’t clean.
She'd ride with a moan,
Till you begged in a groan,
Then smirk, “Hope you’re good for round three.”

