• Hair as black as night
    And as soft as wool
    Lips like rose petals;
    Pink and soft
    Eyes that seem to penetrate the depths of the soul
    Man or God I do not know,
    But either way I could never have him

    Too cool for school,
    He's always gone
    Off in his painted world
    Of bright colors and sad undertones;
    Of chance meetings with strange men in the night
    In a world where the vodka bottle never runs dry
    And the vicodin always gets you high
    Where there's a whore on every corner
    And a knife in every back

    He is the master of this morbid and obscene world
    And he rules it alone
    To be the queen or slave at his side would be an honor
    But I have yet to have the pleasure
    So I wait,
    Content to watch him as he works,
    This beautiful but demented angel